SWISS 


uETTERjS 


.. 


OBIV.  OF  CALIF.  LIBRAHY,  LOS  AHGELES 


SWISS     LETTERS 


AND 


ALPINE   POEMS. 


BY  THE  LATE 

FRANCES    RIDLEY    HAVERGAL. 

Edited  by  her  Sister, 

j.   MIRIAM  'CRANE. 


NEW    YORK: 
ANSON   D.    F.    RANDOLPH   &  COMPANY, 

900  BROADWAY,    COR.    2Oth  ST. 


EDWARD  O.  JENKINS, 

PRINTER  AND  STEREOTYPER, 

20  North  William  Street,  New  York. 


PREFATORY    NOTE, 


THE  world-wide  interest  excited  by  the  writings  and 
"Memorials"  of  my  lamented  sister,  FRANCES  RIDLEY 
HAVERGAL,  has  led  her  family  to  think  that  such  of  her 
letters  as  I  have  been  able  to  collect,  written  to  her  home 
circle  from  Switzerland,  will  be  acceptable  to  her  many 
admirers. 

Some  jvill  feel  pleasure  in  mentally  revisiting  the  sublime 
scenery  she  describes  with  such  vigour  and  simplicity  ;  and 
others  will  be  interested  in  observing  how  unconsciously 
these  letters  illustrate  her  enthusiastic  nature,  her  practical 
ability,  and  her  ardent  desire  that  every  one  should  share 
her  earthly  pleasures  and  her  heavenly  aspirations. 

JANE   MIRIAM   CRANE. 

OAKHAMPTON,  NEAR  STOURPORT, 
October  20,  1881. 


2130234 


CONTENTS. 


I. — ENCYCLICAL  LETTER  IN  1869,  DURING  A  TOUR  WITH  HER 

BROTHER-IN-LAW,    HENRY   CRANE,  HIS  WIFE,  AND  DAUGH- 
TER MIRIAM  LOUISA,          ....         page  9-88 

Dover — Calais  —  Brussels —  Obercassel — Bingen — Heidelberg 
— Baden — Basle — Neuhausen  —  Rhine  Falls  —  Zurich — Berne — 
Thun  —  Interlachen  —  Lauterbrunnen — Miirren — Grindelwald — 
Giessbach — Meyringen — Rosenlaui — Briinig  Pass  —  Lucerne  — 
The  Rigi — Altdorf —  Langnau — Fribourg — Vevey — Montreux — 
Glion — St.  Gingolph — Novelles — Chillon — Bouveret — Gorge  da 
Trient  —  Martigny  —  Tete  Noire — Col  de  Balm — Chamouni — 
Pierre  a  1'  Echelle — La  Flegere — Montanvert — Mer  de  Glace — 
Mauvais  Pas  —  St.  Gervais  —  Geneva  —  Morges — Neuchatel— 
Dijon. 

II. — THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS,          .        .       .  .     page  89-100 
III.  —  NINE    LETTERS    TO    HER    SISTER,    J.    M.  CRANE,   IN 

1871,    DURING    A    TOUR    WITH    HER     FRIEND,     ELIZABETH 

CLAY,       .        .       .        .        .        .        .       page  101-162 

Newhaven — Dieppe — Rouen —  Paris  — Belfort —  Basle — Olten 
— Lucerne — Altdorf  —  Amsteg  —  Wasen  —  Geschenen  —  Ander- 
matt — The  Furca — Viesch — The  ^Eggischhorn — Bel  Alp — The 
Sparrenhorn — Zermatt — Visp — The  Riffel — The  Corner  Grat — 
The  Hornlein  —  St.  Theckiule  —  Chatillon — Aosta — Morgex  — 

(5) 


CONTENTS. 


Courmayeur — Mont  de  Saxe — Col  de  la  Seigne — Chapiu — Col  de 
Bonhomme  —  Contamines  —  Col  de  Voza — Les  Ouches— Cha- 
mouni — The  Bn5ven — La  Flegere — Argentiere — Col  de  Balm — 
Col  de  Trient — Martigny — Montreux — Lausanne. 

IV.— MY  ALPINE  STAFF, page  163 

V. — HOLIDAY  WORK,  WRITTEN  FOR  "  Woman's  Work  "  MAG- 
AZINE, IN  1873, page  164-176 

VI.— AN  ALPINE  CLIMBER,  ....  page  177-179 
VII. — SEVEN  LETTERS  TO  MRS.  HAVERGAL,  OF  LEAMINGTON, 

IN   1873,    DURING  A  TOUR    WITH   THE   REV.    C.    B.    SNEPP, 
HIS   WIFE,   AND   DAUGHTER,       .  .  .          page   l8o-225 

Dover — Calais — Paris— Chalons-sur-Saone— Dole — Neuchatel 
—  Berne  —  Lucerne  —  The  Rigi  —  Fluellen — Alpnacht — Briinig 
Pass  —  Meyringen  —  Interlachen  —  Giessbach  —  The  Scheinige 
Platte  —  Grindelwald  —  Lauterbrunnen  —  Miirren  —  The  Schilt- 
horn — Thun — Berne  —  Geneva  —  Chamouni — Montanvert — Mei 
de  Glace — Mauvais  Pas — Col  de  Voza — Les  Grands  Mulcts — La 
Tour — Col  de  Balm — Tete  Noire — Gorge  du  Trient — Geneva. 

VIII. — JULY  ON  THE  MOUNTAINS,  ....       page  226 

IX. — THREE  LETTERS  FROM  A  SERIES  (NINE  OF  WHICH  ARE  MISS- 
ING) TO  MRS.  HAVERGAL,  IN  1874,  DURING  A  TOUR  CHIEFLY 

WITH  HER  NIECE,  CONSTANCE  S.  CRANE,  .          page  22J-2$2 

The  Faulhorn — Ormont  Dessus — Saanen — Col  de  Pillon — 
Chateau  D'Oex — Gorge  de  la  Tine — Montbovon — Allieres — Col 
de  Jaman — Montreux — Sex  Rouge  —  Auvernier— Pontarlier — 
Dole — Dijon — Paris. 

X. — GOLDEN  LAND, page  253 

XI. — OUR   Swiss  GUIDE,  WRITTEN  FOR  THE  "  Sunday  Maga- 
zine" IN  1874, page  254-265 

XII.— A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT,         .        .        .       page  266-267 


CONTENTS. 


XIII. — MEMORANDA,  BY  MARIA  V.  G.  HAVERGAL,  OF  A  TOUR  IN 
1876  WITH  HER  SISTER,  F.  R.  H.    .         .         page  268-293 

Newhaven — Dieppe — Lausanne — Montreux — Vernayaz —  Fin- 
shauts — Argentiere — Martigny — Orsiere — Hospice  of  St.  Ber- 
nard— Orsiere — Martigny — Champery  —  Berne  —  Interlachen  — 
Schonfels — Pension  Wengen  —  Interlachen — Basle — Strasbourg 
— Brussels. 

XIV. — THE  VOICE  OF  MANY  WATERS,    .       .       page  294-298 


SWISS   LETTERS. 


ENCYCLICAL    LETTER, 

SPECIALLY  FOR  THE  BENEFIT  OF  MARIA,  ELLEN,  AND  FRANK. 


May  31,  1869. 

AFTER  raining  and  roaring  all  Friday,  and  nearly  all 
Saturday,  the  weather  smiled  out  on  Sunday,  and  prom- 
ised for  a  beautiful  passage  on  Monday,  so  we  started 
from  Dover  this  morning  in  good  spirits.  I  have  no 
notion  of  waiting  till  I  am  too  ill  to  stir  before  making 
myself  comfortable ;  so  I  made  a  regular  nest  in  the  lee 
of  a  deck  cabin  with  a  shawl  for  a  mattress,  carpet-bag 
for  pillow,  pile  of  tarpaulin  for  back  rest,  hat  off,  and 
cape  of  waterproof  over  my  head  and  pinned  under  my 
chin  in  sister-of-mercy-looking  style.  Then  I  lay  down, 
and  as  rain  seemed  imminent  was  covered  with  a  tarpau- 
lin all  but  my  nose. 

"  You  will  be  walked  over,  Fanny,"  says  M.  L.  C. ; 
"you  don't  look  like  a  human  being!  "  H.  C.  did  not 
look  much  more  like  one  I  opined,  for  he  was  cased  in 
a  tarpaulin  coat  down  to  his  heels,  with  a  hood  which 

(9) 


SWISS  LETTERS. 


stuck  up  in  two  stiff  points,  leaving  little  of  his  physiog- 
nomy visible  but  his  venerable  beard. 

So  we  joked  each  other  for  the  first  half  hour,  which 
was  in  all  senses  smooth  sailing;  then  sleep  was  sug- 
gested ;  then  kind  inquiries  were  exchanged  ;  after  that, 
silence  ;  after  that,  well,  we  won't  talk  about  it,  as  it  does 
not  belong  to  the  pleasures  of  memory. 

Poor  J.  M.  C. !  "  Is  that  lady  going  to  die  ?  "  asks  H. 
C.  of  the  steward. 

"  Oh  dear  no,  sir ;  not  yet  awhile,"  says  he  ;  "  but 
you'd  much  better  have  all  sat  still  up  here." 

"  In  ten  minutes,  sir,"  says  the  steward.  That  keeps 
up  our  spirits  ;  sea  trials  can  be  borne  that  long.  But 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  passes,  and  we  ask  again.  "  Not 
much  longer  now,  sir  ;  ten  minutes  or  so  will  take  us 
in."  So  we  get  unbelieving  and  give  up  asking.  At 
last  we  are  in,  and  happier  in  mind  and  body,  rather ! 

A  most  uninteresting  rail  ride,  leaving  Calais  1.15, 
arriving  at  Brussels  6.30.  Hotel  de  1'Europe,  in  Place 
Royale.  Table  d'hote  speedily,  at  which  we  chattered 
with  a  Swiss  gentleman,  who  "could  afford  to  be  gener- 
ous," as  M.  said,  and  praised  the  Rhine  astonishingly, 
far  more  than  I  could,  who  have  only  Scotland  to  com- 
pare it  with. 

After  this,  the  lady  who  was  "  going  to  die  "  in  the 
morning  proposed  going  out  to  see  what  could  be  seen 
in  the  lovely  evening  light ;  so  the  three  went,  and  I 
stayed  to  rest.  For  this  piece  of  prudence  I  had  a  re- 
ward. Very  soon  a  pleasant  Belgian  maid  came  in,  with 
her  white  frilled  cap  tied  under  her  chin.  She  asked  if 
I  was  not  well,  seeing  me  on  the  sofa.  I  explained  that 
I  had  had  a  long  journey  from  England.  She  asked 


DOVER  TO  BRUSSELS. 


how  it  was  that  England  was  all  surrounded  by  water  ; 
she  had  heard  so,  but  could  never  understand  it.  My 
explanation  led  on  to  more  talk,  and  she  told  me  of  a 
fearful  illness  she  had  last  year  when  "  la  maladie  "  was 
raging  in  Brussels.  This  was  a  nice  opportunity  to 
speak  of  Him  who  "  healeth  all  our  diseases."  She 
seemed  thoughtful,  and  so  interested  that  she  stayed 
talking  half  an  hour.  She  told  me  how  near  death  she 
had  been  ;  she  did  not  know  it  at  the  time,  but  when 
she  had  since  thought  of  it,  "  that  one  must  die,  and  all 
alone, — "  and  she  finished  the  sentence  with  a  most  ex- 
pressive shuddering  gesture.  Evidently  she  felt  the 
ceremonies  of  her  church  were  not  enough  to  give  peace 
in  death,  nor  in  life  either;  for  when  I  appealed  to  the 
feeling,  certain  to  exist  even  if  denied,  that  the  heart  is 
not  filled,  that  it  has  a  craving  for  something  that  is  al- 
ways at  the  bottom  unsatisfied,  even  when  things  are 
smoothest  and  brightest,  she  looked  almost  startled  at 
hearing  her  feeling  put  into  words,  and  said  most  sadly 
and  earnestly  :  "  Mais  out,  mat's  oui,  mademoiselle,  mats 
c'est  vrai,  cela!"  She  promised  me  that  she  would 
pray  for  the  Holy  Spirit.  Poor  girl !  she  will  have  no 
earthly  teacher.  After  she  was  gone  I  marked  all  I 
most  wanted  her  to  notice  in  a  French  St.  John's  Gos- 
pel, and  gave  it  her  next  morning.  She  seemed  pleased, 
and  promised  to  read  it.  In  marking  it  I  was  struck 
with  what  I  have  so  often  felt,  viz,  that  when  one  reads 
any  part  of  the  Bible  with  anything  special  in  view,  it  is 
wonderful  how  much  seems  to.  bear  on  the  particular 
subject,  as  if  written  on  purpose.  So  it  was  that' every 
chapter  seemed  full  of  jus.t  the  very  teaching  poor  Vic- 
torine  needexi,  the  satisfied  thirst,  the  promise  of  eternal 


I2  5 WISS  LE  TTERS. 

life,  the.  teaching  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  all  through 
"Jesus  only,"  all  pointing  to  Him  and  to  none  other  for 
peace  and  salvation. 

June  i.     FROM  BRUSSELS  TO  OBERCASSEL. 

We  had  no  sunshine  for  the  lovely  Verdre  valley,  but 
the  evening  was  exquisite.  H.  C.  and  the  others  stayed 
to  see  Aix  and  Cologne,  while  I  went  on  to  see  Fraulein 
Kramer,  at  Bonn,  where  papa  stayed  the  winter.  They 
were  heartily  delighted  to  see  any  one  who  could  bring 
news  of  him,  "the  best  man  in  the  whole  world,  so 
through  and  through  good,  who  had  left  a  blessing  which 
had  rested  on  their  house  ever  since."  Then  I  walked 
down  to  the  Rhine  ;  the  stream  was  very  full  and  strong, 
and  the  colouring  vivid  as  we  left  Bonn ;  the  Rhine  a 
delicate  silver  blue,  the  east  bank  golden  green,  houses 
and  walls  almost  scarlet  in  the  evening  glow  ;  then  be- 
yond the  low  sunny  shore  rose  the  Seven  Mountains  in 
deep  cloud  shadow,  soft  dark  blue  sharply  outlined 
against  the  pale  clear  sky.  As  we  neared  Obercassel, 
the  red  rocks  of  the  Rabenlei  caught  the  last  of  the  sun- 
shine. 

The  pastor  was  waiting  for  me,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
I  was  besieged  by  eight  of  his  olive  branches  (by  way  of 
mixing  up  peace  and  war !).  I  went  to  bed  at  ten  ;  but 
we  had  talk  enough  to  fill  a  book,  so  as  I  cannot  record 
all,  I  shall  record  none. 

June  2.     OBERCASSEL. 

Of  course  I  have  had  the  whole  history  of  the  war 
from  a  Prussian  point  of  view.*  The  gist  of  it  is  that 

*  This  was  the  Austro-Prussian  war  of  1866,  which  terminated 
at  Sadowa. 


OBERCASSEL.  13 


Prussia  had  no  alternative  but  to  allow  itself  to  be  put 
upon  and  sink,  or  to  put  upon  others  and  rise,  and  that  it 
was  only  natural  to  choose  the  latter.  Denmark  was  a 
naughty,  obstinate  child,  which  must  be  punished  ;  Han- 
over, ditto.  Pastor  S.  says  that  all  the  strength  and 
patriotism  of  Prussia  lies  in  its  Protestantism  ;  that  the 
Catholics  are  an  absolute  drag  upon  both,  sympathizing 
openly  when  they  dare,  but  secretly  always  and  every- 
where, with  Austria. 

In  the  afternoon  we  drove  to  Heisterbach,  a  lovely 
ruined  apse  of  a  monastery  in  a  little  glen  on  the  south 
side  of  the  Seven  Mountains.  It  was  quite  warm  enough 
for  the  usual  German  plan  of  taking  coffee  under  the 
trees.  Here  we  had  a  talk  over  church  matters.  The 
pastor's  impression  is  that  the  great  rationalistic  vein  is 
being  rapidly  worked  through  in  Germany,  and  that  the 
ferment  is  nearly  over;  that  in  this  respefct  the  English 
are  a  few  years  behind,  and  are  now  giving  more  weigh! 
to  German  theology  than  the  Germans  themselves  are 
doing.  Then  we  had  a  stroll  through  the  beech  woods, 
poor  Theodor  keeping  up  with  us  on  his  crutches.  He 
has  had  a  year  of  terrible  suffering,  ending  in  amputa- 
tion ;  he  is  expecting  his  new  leg  this  week,  and  hopes 
to  return  to  the  university  in  the  autumn.  He  is  a  first 
rate  student- specimen,  full  of  fun,  and  no  end  of  snatches  of 
all  sortsof  songs  ap  ropos  of  every  thing,  yet  with  abundance 
of  talent  and  sense  and  feeling  beneath  it.  His  father  read 
me  a  touchingly  beautiful  little  poem  which  he  had  writ- 
ten on  his  last  birthday  in  the  midst  of  his  suffering.* 

The  girls  sing  all  day  long,  with  various  fraternal  ac- 

*  Dear  Theodor  fell  asleep  in  Jesus  after  several  weeks'  great 
suffering,  in  January,  1870. 


14  SWISS  LETTERS. 

companiments.  I  heard  Agnes  singing  simply  mag- 
nificently, and  on  going  to  her  found  her  preparing  some 
young  potatoes  in  a  basin  on  her  lap  all  the  time,  while 
Theodor  was  playing  for  her!  It  was  characteristic. 
She  sings  very  like  Sarah  Conolly,  and  with  great  spirit 
and  expression.  My  godchild,  Adelheid,  has  not  yet 
had  lessens,  but  sings  numbers  of  duets  and  trios  very 
nicely. 

After  supper  the  pastor  read  us  "  Otto  von  Schiltz,"  a 
Rhine  poem  by  Kinkel.  We  worked,  and  Theodor, 
Paul,  and  Franz  sat  in  great  delight,  listening  to  their 
favourite  poet.  These  young  Schulzeberges  all  follow 
their  father's  tastes,  and  enter  into  everything  poetical, 
musical,  and  intellectual,  most  eagerly.  They  are  ex- 
ceedingly attached  to  each  other  and  to  home ;  in  this 
respect  they  are  a  perfectly  ideal  family.  Agnes  told 
me  that  Hermann's  distress  at  spending  his  first  Christ- 
mas away  from  home  was  something  grievous,  and  Paul 
is  already  dreading  his  own  possible  absence  next 
Christmas. 

June  3.     OBERCASSEL  TO  BINGEN. 

Coffee  at  7.30,  then  the  household  assembled  for 
prayers.  First  we  sang  my  favourite  chorale  of  years 
ago,  "Ach,  bleib  mit  deiner  Gnade";  then  all  sit  with 

folded   hands    and    slightly     Q       {    , | i , 

bent  heads  while  the  pastor    VL--     I  -| — |-gl  -&-^ — 

$S>  *[&-&-& — ^-gg  I 

reads  a  verse  or  two  and  a     +j-& 
short  comment,  something  like  Bogatzky.     This  is  gen- 
erally all,  only  on  special  occasions,  birthdays  or  festivals, 
is  it  followed  by  prayer.     But  this  morning  the  pastor 
closed  the  book  and  folded  his  hands  and  prayed  ;  we 


OBERCASSEL  TO  BIN  GEN.  15 

all  remain  sitting,  only  the  head  is  bent  a  little  lower 
and  the  eyes  closed.  Such '  a  sweet,  loving,  earnest 
prayer  it  was,  specially  asking  abundant  blessing  both 
for  the  present  journey  and  for  the  whole  journey  of  life, 
"  for  her  who  has  again  filled  our  house  with  grateful 
joy":  these  dear  Schulzeberges  are  one  and  all  most 
loving  and  kind.  Then  we  all  went  down  to  the  Rhine 
to  meet  the  boat  coming  up  from  Bonn.  The  pastor, 
Agnes,  and  Adelheid  came  with  us  to  Konigswinter,  to 
make  acquaintance  with  the  rest  of  our  party. 

It  promised  well  for  a  fine  day,  the  sun  shining  through 
a  soft  mist  that  suggested  more  beauty  than  it  hid.  But 
that  only  lasted  till  we  had  passed  the  Seven  Mountains, 
and  the  rest  of  the  day  was  grey,  so  that  we  had  only 
form  and  not  colour  ;  the  difference  between  this  and 
my  last  view  of  the  Rhine  was  just  that  between  an  en- 
graving and  a  painting. 

There  were  very  few  people  on  board,  the  season  has 
been  late  and  cold.  We  got  into  talk  with  a  most  queer- 
looking,  keen-eyed,  elderly  man,  who  spoke  English 
with  a  strong  strange  accent.  He  was  German,  but  had 
lived  many  years  in  London,  and  was  going  for  a  holi- 
day to  Frankfort.  He  seemed  to  know  "  all  about 
everything,"  and  was  an  odd  mixture  of  shabbiness  and 
gentlemanliness.  BSfcently  he  brought  his  daughter, 
and  introduced  her,  I  think  with  a  little  pride.  Oh 
such  eyes !  neither  English  nor  German,  dark,  soft, 
beautiful,  a  perfect  picture.  She.  was  very  quiet  and  re- 
tiring, all  the  more  fascinating  on  that  account,  with  a 
gentle,  sad  expression,  lighting  up  when  she  spoke  into 
a  very  sweet:  smile.  We  decided  they  must  be  Jews  ; 
and  later  in  the  day,  when  better  acquainted,  I  asked 


16  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

her  if  it  were  so,  and  was  almost  sorry  I  did,  for  she 
coloured  deeply  and  answered  "Yes!"  in  a  shy,  reluc- 
tant tone.  So  I  made  haste  to  tell  her  what  an  interest 
it  was  to  me  to  find  that  she  was  of  that  noble  race,  and 
said  I  could  wish  that  I  too  were  of  Jewish  blood ! 
That  seemed  not  only  to  relieve,  but  to  astonish  both 
her  and  her  father  ;  and  he  said,  in  a  bitter  tone,  "  You 
stand  alone ;  other  Christians  feel  very  differently 
towards  us."  Then  we  had  a  long  talk  in  German. 
He  said  he  honoured  Jesus  of  Nazareth  :  "  He  was  a 
wonderful  man,  and  a  very  beautiful  character,  and  had 
wrought  a  wonderful  work  in  the  world  through  His 
marvellous  insight  into  human  nature  and  adaptation  of 
His  teaching  to  the  times.  But  as  for  His  being  God!  " 
and  he  finished  the  sentence  with  just  a  look,  which 
spoke  more  contempt  for  the  idea  than  words  could 
have  done.  I  replied  that  I  saw  no  alternative  between 
His  being  all  that  He  claimed  to  be,  that  is  God,  and 
being  a  liar  and  impostor.  We  argued  frankly  for  some 
time,  and  not  at  all  unpleasantly  ;  he  was  quite  willing  to 
listen  fairly,  and  never  replied  captiously.  The  girl  was 
listening  with  her  soft,  sad  eyes,  so  I  broke  away  from 
argument  and  spoke  to  the  hard  old  Jew  what  I  wanted 
her  to  hear,  just  about  the  love,  and  tenderness,  and 
sympathy,  and  all-sufficiency  of  Jesus ;  tried  simply  to 
carry  out : 

"  Tell  them  what  you  know  is  true, 
Tell  them  what  He  is  to  you  !  " 

Afterwards  the  old  fellow  was  very  anxious  that  I 
should  come  to  Frankfort.  I  was  "  a  friend  of  Jews," 
and  as  such  would  be  heartily  welcomed  by  himself  and 


BINGEN  TO  HEIDELBERG.  17 

' 

his  friends,  and  he  would  like  to  show  us  all  he  could, 
especially  of  the  Jews'  quarter.  As  we  were  not  going 
there,  he  gave  me  his  London  address,  and  a  most 
cordial  invitation  to  call  if  I  possibly  could. 

We  also  made  acquaintance  with  a  German-American, 
"  travelling  scientifically,"  and  a  Prussian  soldier  with  a 
Koniggratz  medal,  overflowing  with  national  pride. 

The  vineyards  rather  spoil  than  improve  the  scenery 
at  this  season,  they  are  in  the  potato  garden  stage.  Still 
the  Rhine  is  the  Rhine,  and  it  is  very  lovely  even  under 
a  dull  sky.  As  we  came  on  shore  at  Bingen,  about  forty 
sahoolgirls  went  on  board  and  instantly  formed  on  deck 
and  struck  up  "Am  Rhein,"  the  very  pretty  Rhine 
song,  singing  it  right  well  in  three  parts. 

Oh  the  luxury  of  sitting  out  in  the  hotel  garden  to 
write !  We  are  close  to  the  river,  and  the  garden  is  full 
of  roses,  and  has  a  long  terrace  entirely  arched  over  with 
green ;  it  is  so  delicious  to  sit  here  and  rest,  and  not  be 
in  a  town !  I  have  (with  permission)  gathered  splendid 
roses  and  white  syringa,  just  for  the  pleasure  of  gather- 
ing them.  H.  C.  and  the  M.'s  are  gone  to  the  vine- 
yards. 

June  4.     BINGEN  TO  HEIDELBERG. 

We  have  come  into  full  summer  at  once,  a  hazy  heat, 
just  relieved  by  an  occasional  light  river  breeze.  After 
breakfast  we  went  up  to  the  Burg  Klopp,  a  scrap  of  a 
ruined  castle  commanding  a  grand  view  of  the  Rhine 
valley.  M.  sketched,  and  we  loitered  about  and  en- 
joyed ourselves.  Then  we  came  down  into  the  town, 
and  hearing  music  went  into  a  church.  It  was  the  Feast 
of  the  Heart  of  Jesus,  and  there  had  been  high  mass 


IS  SWISS  LETTERS. 

. . ^p    ' 

early,  and  now  service  again  at  10.30.  A  fine  solemn 
chorale  was  being  sung,  the  congregation  joining  lustily. 
Oleander  trees  were  set  down  each  side  of  the  church, 
and  the  whole  altar  end  was  decorated  with  flowers, 
both  growing  and  gathered.  While  we  stood  just  inside, 
relays  of  children,  led  by  uncommonly  pleasant-looking 
sisters  of  mercy,  came  in,  dipping  in  the  holy  water  and 
crossing  themselves  as  they  passed.  One  lot  of  toddling 
wee  things  could  hardly  reach  the  holy  water,  so  the 
so&ur  made  a  dash  at  it  and  sprinkled  it  over  them  all, 
and  hurried  them  in,  cutting  the  ceremony  short. 

We  left  Bingen  at  12.20.  The  rail  to  Mayence  is  not 
striking,  but  one  gets  some  nice  peeps  of  the  river.  At 
Darmstadt  we  had  half  an  hour  to  wait,  so  ran  into  the 
town,  which  is  cheerful  and  pretty,  with  wide  streets 
and  wonderfully  long  avenues.  We  passed  a  guard- 
house, so  H.  C.  walked  up  to  the  soldiers  and  began 
making  signs  and  talking  English  to  them  to  their  great 
amusement,  till  I  came  up  to  interpret.  We  asked  it 
their  helmets  were  not  very  hot  and  heavy,  so  one  in- 
stantly took  his  off  and  handed  it  to  him  with  great 
politeness,  and  another  or  two  had  medals  to  show.  We 
had  just  time  to  see  the  Grand  Ducal  Palace,  which 
looks  like  a  great  hotel,  and  then  got  back  to  the  train. 
The  rail  to  Heidelberg  is  extremely  pretty,  running 
under  the  range  of  hills  which  bound  the  Odenwald. 
To-day  the  sun  added  all  its  charm  to  the  green  and 
gold  and  shadow  on  the  wooded  heights  and  tempting 
ravines  which  broke  the  range  at  intervals.  At  the  en- 
trance of  these  valleys  a  picturesque  village  generally 
lay,  with  gardens  and  gable  and  a  church  tower  all  com- 
plete. 


HEIDELBERG.  ig 

At  Heidelberg  we  put  up  at  the  Prince  Charles.  Being 
much  too  late  for  table  d'hdte  we  had  to  dine  separately. 
M.  left  dinner  ordering  to  us.  H.  C.  would  not  say 
what  he  would  like,  so  I  told  the  waiter  we  wanted  "  din- 
ner" and  to  bring  anything,  whatever  they  happened  to 
have.  So  in  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  we  sat 
down  and  dinner  began.  When  it  would  have  ended  I 
don't  know  ;  but  after  having  soup,  salmon,  roast  beef, 
tongue,  cutlets,  and  a  queer  preparation  of  duck  and 
olives,  we  thought  we  had  had  enough,  and  declined 
with  thanks  the  couple  of  fowls  we  were  to  have  eaten, 
and  the  salad  and  stewed  cherries,  and  ditto  three  re- 
maining courses.  The  waiter  was  afraid  we  were  not 
pleased,  but  we  explained  to  him  that  our  capabilities 
were  not  unlimited  ;  he  said  some  English  were  not 
satisfied  when  they  had  gone  through  the  whole  menu  ! 
I  shall  not  hear  the  last  of  this  dinner  ;  when  they  want 
to  do  it  in  style  "  F.  shall  order," — they  will  say. 

We  had  an  evening  stroll  over  the  bridge  and  along 
the  Neckar,  not  far,  for  we  were  tired,  and  M.  L.  and  I 
go  upstairs  at  8.30,  and  potter  about  and  write  out 
journals. 

June  5.     HEIDELBERG. 

A  most  delightful  morning,  spent  at  the  castle.  The 
way  up  is  steep  enough,  but  all  overhung  with  green, 
which  would  beguile  any  ascent  for  me.  The  castle  has 
a  rich  sunny  look,  being  built  of  red  stone,  which  is 
warm  and  full  of  colour  without  the  least  brickish  effect. 
It  was  altogether  beyond  my  expectations,  whether  as 
to  extent,  beauty  of  detail  or  of  whole,  or  as  to  the 
lovely  situation.  It  is  a  perfect  combination  of  far  and 


20  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

near,  the  splendid  ruins  and  luxuriant  foliage  close  at 
hand,  the  quaint  town  below  with  river  and  bridge,  the 
vineyards  and  wooded  heights  opposite,  the  Neckar  val- 
ley with  its  sharp  turns  soon  closing  the  view  to  the  east, 
and  then  the  wide  reach  of  plain  to  the  west,  green 
softening  into  blue  distance  and  bounded  by  the  dim- 
mest grey  outline  where  the  mountains  of  France  are 
hinted. 

We  sauntered  about  ad  libitum,  and  simply  enjoyed 
ourselves;  tonics  and  salvolatile  are  nothing  to  lying 
under  a  tree  with  nothing  to  disturb  one  but  birds  and 
pretty  beetles,  and  knowing  that  there  is  absolutely 
nothing  to  do  for  the  next  two  hours  but  look  at  the 
green  and  the  blue  around  and  above.  In  the  after- 
noon M.  was  done  for  and  decided  not  to  stir  ;  so  H. 
C.  took  M.  L.  and  myself  in  a  carriage  up  the  valley  of 
the  Neckar  among  lovely  wooded  hills,  reaches  of  corn- 
fields, steep  red  rocks  quarried  here  and  there,  and  the 
river  constantly  winding  and  forming  new  pictures.  We 
went  past  Neckargemiind  to  Neckarsteinach,  where, 
while  the  horses  were  watered,  we  did  the  correct  thing, 
and  took  coffee  in  the  garden  overlooking  the  river,  for 
which  we  paid  twopence  each !  I  asked  the  driver 
many  questions,  and  he  was  civil  and  communicative, 
and  recommended  an  excursion  to  Schonan  to-morrow. 
I  said  "No,  not  to-morrow!"  "Ah,  yes,"  he  said,  "I 
had  forgotten,  you  are  English,  and  the  English  do  not 
go  excursions  on  Sundays."  I  was  glad  to  hear  that 
this  is  an  understood  thing. 

.  Of  all  the  noisy  places  I  ever  was  in,  this  is  the  worst. 
Certainly  till  two  A.M.  the  natives  kept  up  chattering, 
whistling,  shouting,  and  singing,  and  when  I  looked  out 


SUNDA  Y  AT  HEIDELBERG.  21 

at  five  A.M.  the  market  place  was  all  in  a  buzz,  and  buy- 
ing and  selling  had  begun  again.  "Do  the  Germans 
ever  go  to  bed  at  all  ?  "  I  said.  "  Some  of  them  do,  I 
think,"  said  H.  C.  very  gravely  and  rather  doubtfully. 

June  6.     SUNDAY  AT  HEIDELBERG. 

At  nine  A.M.  I  went  to  German  service  in  the  large 
church  close  by  the  Prince  Charles.  The  Catholics 
have  the  choir,  and  the  Protestants  the  nave  ;  but  there 
is  a  division  between  the  two,  so  that  it  is  almost  the 
same  as  separate  churches.  The  sermon  was  from  the 
gospel  for  the  day,  "  And  they  all  with  one  consent  be- 
gan to  make  excuse";  it  was  not  remarkable.  But  the 
singing !  When  after  a  short  prelude  the  first  chorale 
burst  out,  it  went  through  me,  and  I  only  wished  all  my 
Leamington  friends  could  have  been  there  to  hear  :  dig- 
nified, solemn,  grand,  massive,  the  very  antipodes  of 
some  of  the  flimsy  rattling  church  music  at  home.  It 
was  just  the  difference  between  a  cheap  ball  dress  and 
coronation  robes,  or  better,  a  musical  embodiment  of 
the  mighty  world-upheaving  Reformation  as  compared 
with  the  effervescence  of  a  revival  in  its  least  hopeful 
form.  The  organ  is  played  full,  and  all  sing,  so  it  is 
very  slow,  and  a  gallop  would  be  impossible ;  but  then 
each  chord  is  so  rich  and  perfect  that  the  ear  requires 
time  to  enjoy  it,  and  the  general  effect  is  most  elevating, 
the  very  majesty  of  praise.  I  can  hardly  imagine  what 
my  German  friends  would  say  if  they  heard  the  Te 
Deum  raced  through,  presto,  to  the  tune  of  "  The  heav- 
ens are  telling,"  the  utter  barbarians  they  would  think 
us,  and  the  profanity  it  would  appear  to  them ! 

It  was  very  hot  in  the  afternoon,  and  M.  L.  and  I 


22  SWISS  LETTERS. 

found  a  quiet  corner  in  the  castle  grounds,  where  we 
rested  a  long  while  and  enjoyed  being  away  from  the 
clatter  of  Heidelberg,  where  we  shall  never  recommend 
any  one  to  take  a  rest.  , 

We  went  to  the  one  o'clock  table  d'hdte,  and  specu- 
lated as  to  what  Maria  would  have  done!  For  had  we 
dined  apart  it  would  have  made  extra  work,  and  yet  the 
table  d'hote  was  as  un-Sunday  an  affair  as  possible, 
with  a  band  playing  most  of  the  time  in  very  good  style, 
beginning  with  the  overture  to  "  Tancredi  "  !  A  little 
girl  came  round  with  flowers,  a  young  gentleman  sitting 
next  M.  L.  took  a  tiny  bouquet  of  roses  and  pinks  and 
laid  it  by  her  plate.  He  did  not  speak  English,  and  we 
had  quite  a  talk  in  German.  He  was  of  Italian  parentage 
(though  of  German  abode),  and  had  all  the  proper  ac- 
companiments of  dark  handsome  eyes,  musical  voice, 
and  courteous  manners.  He  wanted  to  arrange  some 
excursion  for  us  in  the  evening,  but  yielded  politely  at 
once  when  we  declined.  Presently  he  offered  me  his 
card,  "  Romeo  Ghezzi "  ;  I  had  not  mine  at  hand,  but 
what  did  much  better,  my  Leaflets.  So  I  chose  out 
"To  whom,  O  Saviour,  shall  we  go ! "  and  gave  it  him, 
saying  that  was  my  card,  having  ascertained  that  he 
could  read,  though  not  speak,  English.  He  read  it 
slowly  all  through,  asking  me  the  German  of  two  or 
three  words  he  did  not  know,  and  then  put  it  in  his 
pocket  book.  He  seemed  a  little  taken  aback  at  the 
style  of  thing  I  fancy,  but  was  too  polite  to  make  him- 
self less  agreeable  for  it,  and  for  the  few  words  with 
which  it  was  followed  up. 


HEIDELBERG  TO  FREIBURG. 


June  7.     HEIDELBERG  TO  FREIBURG. 

Oh,  we  were  so  glad  to  get  out  of  Heidelberg  in  spite 
of  its  surrounding  beauties  ;  it  seems  to  possess  some 
peculiar  acoustic  properties  whereby  all  sound  is  magni- 
fied. Every  footstep  reverberates,  every  voice  echoes, 
and  a  passing  carriage  might  be  a  pack  of  artillery  or  a 
fire  engine  at  the  least  We  started  by  the  Baden  rafl- 
our  route  being  south  with  a  wide  plain  to  the 
west,  and  wooded  ranges  on  the  east,  all  day.  Finding 
we  could  get  three  hours  at  Baden-Baden,  we  turned 
off  the  main  line  at  Oos.  The  heat  was  intense,  and  we 
took  a  carriage  at  once  to  the  Trinkhalle.  In  front  is  a 
splendid  open  saloon,  the  inner  wall  covered  with  paint- 
ings on  large  panels.  Within  is  a  superb  hall  exquisitely 
decorated,  in  the  centre  a  fine  column  with  a  base  of 
flowering  plants,  from  among  which  the  waters  hot  and 
cold  come  out  in  little  fountains.  We  passed  on 
through  shady  gardens  to  the  maison  de  conversation  ; 
the  tastefully  decorated  ballroom  has  the  most  superb 
chandeliers  I  ever  imagined,  their  masses  of  crystal 
festoonery  glittering  with  prismatic  hues  even  in  this 
subdued  light  Through  an  opening  in  the  mirrored 
wall  we  came  upon  a  novel  scene,  a  large  green  table 
surrounded  by  perhaps  sixteen  silent  players.  The 
banker  or  leader  rapidly  laid  down  cards,  flung  coins  to 
various  parts  of  the  table,  swept  them  in  with  a  little 
money  rake,  now  and  then  saying,  "  Le  jeu  est  fait," 
which  was  followed  by  a  sweep  of  the  money ;  there 
seemed  no  play  in  it  In  another  room  we  saw  the 
roulette  table  ;  only  men  were  there,  no  ladies. 

After  a  lunch  of  chicken  and  ices  we  ran  up  a  little 


24  SWISS  LETTERS. 

height  above  the  Trinkhalle,  and  got  a  good  general 
view  of  the  place,  which  is  pretty  enough,  lying  among 
these  wooded  hills.  At  three  P.M.  we  left  for  Freiburg, 
and  the  country  became  more  beautiful  as  we  neared  it; 
but  the  dust  neutralized  the  enjoyment.  Surely  there 
could  have  been  no  dust  in  Eden !  it  must  be  part  of 
the  curse. 

After  our  arrival  at  the  Zahringer  Hof,  we  sauntered 
out,  and  thought  Freiburg  charming.  Half  way  round 
the  town  are  forest-clad  hills,  broken  by  lovely  valleys, 
stretching  away  into  the  Black  Forest.  On  the  other 
side  the  soft  purple  outlines  of  the  French  mountains 
told  grandly  under  the  sunset.  A  rapid  mountain  stream, 
alternately  flooded  and  dried  up  (as  we  heard),  crossed 
our  path,  making  white  noisy  dashes  over  little  rocky 
barriers.  It  comes  from  three  sources  in  the  hills  above, 
and  so  is  named  the  Dreisam. 

It  is  an  additional  interest  to  this  tour  that  H.  C. 
travels  agriculturally  ;  I  shall  get  quite  up  in  compara- 
tive crops  and  so  forth.  We  stopped  to  talk  to  a  pleas- 
ant honest-faced  man  working  on  his  own  ground,  and 
he  gave  information  about  lucerne,  and  fodder,  and  In- 
dian corn  with  apparent  pleasure,  especially  when  I  told 
him  that  Mr.  C.  had  an  English  country  estate  and  liked 
to  know  how  a  German  one  was  managed.  He  had 
vines  too,  and  we  noticed  the  difference  in  foliage  ; 
some  vines,  having  large  plain  leaves  with  only  three 
divisions  and  hardly  serrated  at  all,  bore  the  Johannis- 
berger  grape.  They  were  in  blossom.  "  Smell  it,"  he 
said,  and  verily  "  the  vines  with  the  tender  grape  give  a 
good  smell" 

H.  C.  is  very  amusing  to  travel  with,  he  throws  him- 


FREIBURG  TO  BASLE.  25 

self  so  thoroughly  into  everything.  It  is  great  fun  in- 
terpreting for  him,  not  that  he  always  waits  for  an  inter- 
preter ;  he  talks  English  to  the  natives  quite  complacent- 
ly, and  they  make  very  good  guesses  as  to  what  he  wants, 
and  signs  go  a  long  way. 

June  8.     FREIBURG  TO  BASLE. 

Soon  after  breakfast  we  went  to  Freiberg  cathedral  or 
minister,  in  iath  and  i3th  century  architecture.  The 
spire  is  380  feet  high,  of  most  delicately  beautiful  open- 
work, the  airiest  tracery  imaginable.  The  variety  of 
gothic  pattern  in  the  parapet  work  is  quite  a  study  in 
itself.  We  had  intended  going  to  Steiz,  a  splendid 
drive  through  the  Hollenthal  (Valley  of  Hell),  issuing 
in  the  Himmelreich  (Kingdom  of  Heaven),  so  I  wonder 
it  was  not  called  Valley  of  Purgatory  instead  ;  it  is  a  sort 
of  circumstantial  evidence  that  the  aborigines  were  not 
Papists.  From  Steiz  we  were  to  drive  next  day  to 
Schaffhausen,  but  as  thunderstorms  blew  up  we  went  on 
by  train  to  Basle  instead.  Our  window  in  La  Croix 
Blanche  at  Basle  looks  on  the  Rhine,  which  is  here  a 
beautiful  blue  green,  inclining  to  silver  in  the  light  and 
emerald  in  the  shade  ;  it  is  flowing  swiftly,  and  break- 
ing white  against  the  piers  of  the  bridge.  Opposite  are 
quaint,  many-windowed,  steeple-roofed  houses,  the  ca- 
thedral and  other  towers,  and  gardens  and  trees  over- 
hanging the  river  ;  above  these,  grey  and  purple  folds 
of  cloud-curtain,  within  which  lightnings  are  playing 
and  thunder  is  growling.  But,  once  for  all,  let  me  re- 
mind you  that  I  do  not  intend  to  write  what  Murray 
gives  much  better  ;  and  that  my  journal  is  only  a  prattle 


SWISS  LETTERS. 


of  individual  reminiscences,  of  no  interest  to  any  but 
amiable  and  affectionate  friends, 

June  9.     BASLE  TO  NEUHAUSEN. 

I  had  just  time  to  stroll  over  the  bridge  and  set  foot 
on  Swiss  soil  for  the  first  time,  and  then  off  by  rail.  For 
two  hours  it  was  the  prettiest  line  we  have  yet  seen, 
constantly  close  to  the  Rhine,  and  the  valley  was  wide 
enough  to  allow  of  a  fair  view  on  both  sides.  The  river 
grew  gradually  narrower,  and  at  Rothenburg  it  was 
compressed  into  a  narrow  gorge,  down  which  it  thun- 
dered dark,  and  white,  and  mighty.  Actually  the  sta- 
tion was  placed  exactly  where  we  had  apparently  the 
best  possible  view  of  the  cataract,  with  some  old  towers 
on  the  opposite  bank,  a  quaint  bridge  just  above,  and  a 
background  of  lovely  wooded  hills.  From  Waldshut 
the  scenery  was  tame,  and  one  could  rest  one's  eyes 
without  compunction. 

At  Neuhausen,  three  miles  from  Schaffhausen,  we 
went  to  the  Schweizer.  Hof,  and  asked  for  rooms  front- 
ing the  Rhine,  but  hardly  expected  the  vision  when  the 
waiter  opened  the  glass  doors  and  ushered  us  on  to  our 
tiny  balcony.  It  was  a  full  front  view  of  the  falls  of  the 
Rhine,  380  feet  wide  by  50  or  60  feet  high,  the  hotel 
grounds  alone  intervening  between  us  and  the  river. 
The  falls  are  a  mass  of  sparkling  white,  broken  by  two 
or  three  tree-covered  rocks  ;  about  four  we  set  out  to 
see  them,  by  winding,  shady  paths  to  the  railway  bridge 
above  the  falls,  which  has  a  footway.  It  was  fascinating 
to  look  down  at  the  wild  rapids,  sheets  of  glasslike 
transparency  flowing  swiftly  over  rock  tables,  then  a 
sudden  precipice  below,  water  which  might  go  down  to 


BASLE  TO  NEUHAUSEN:  27 

any  depth,  only  that  you  are  not  looking  down  into 
darkness,  but  into  emerald  and  snow,  mingled  and 
transfused  marvellously,  and  full  of  motion  and  power 
and  almost  life.  Then  we  went  up  to  the  castle  of 
Laufen,  and  saw  some  fine  Swiss  paintings  by  Jenny,  a 
pupil  of  Calame  of  Geneva  (now  dead),  the  greatest 
Swiss  landscape  painter.  But  the  view  from  outside 
was  unapproachable  by  any  artist ;  and  we  descended 
from  point  to  point,  getting  new  impressions  of  what  a 
waterfall  can  be,  at  each.  At  one  we  had  a  rainbow  in 
the  highest  spray,  arching  the  whole  fall  ;  at  another  a 
new  rainbow  hung  over  the  lower  part,  seeming  to  rest 
upon  the  utter  restlessness  behind  it.  I  felt  it  was  per- 
fectly impossible  for  any  words  to  convey  a  tolerable 
idea  of  the  falls,  as  seen  from  the  rocks  close  beside 
them.  The  rocks  beneath  them  are  not  a  smooth  ledge, 
but  broken  and  varied,  and  thus  the  water  is  thrown 
into  a  chaos  of  magnificent  curves  and  leaps  infinitely 
more  beautiful  than  any  single  chute  could  be,  water 
against  water,  foam  against  foam.  You  look  up  and  see 
masses,  mountains  of  white,  bright  water  hurled  ever- 
lastingly and  irresistibly  down,  down,  down,  with  a  sort 
of  exuberance  of  the  joy  of  utter  strength.  You  look 
across  and  see  shattered  diamonds  by  millions,  leaping 
and  glittering  in  the  sunshine.  You  look  down,  and  it 
is  a  tremendous  wrestling  and  sinking  and  overcoming 
of  flood  upon  flood,  all  the  more  weirdly  grand  that  it  is 
half  hidden  in  the  clouds  of  spray.  Only  one  cannot 
look  long,  it  is  so  dazzling,  so  intensely  white,  every 
drop  so  full  of  light,  that  the  eye  soon  wearies  and 
memory  has  to  begin  her  work.  Oh,  if  one  were  only 
all  spirit !  We  came  across  the  Rhine  in  a  little  boat 


28  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

just  below  the  falls,  and  were  thankful  to  rest  in  our 
charming  hotel. 

June  10.     NEUHAUSEN  TO  ZURICH. 

After  breakfast  I  could  not  resist  a  fling  upon  the 
piano,  and  among  other  things  played  the  Wedding 
March.  Presently  after  we  were  told  there  was  a  wed- 
ding breakfast  in  the  hotel  that  morning,  the  last  un- 
married lady  in  Neuhausen,  said  our  informant ;  there 
were  sixty  not  long  ago,  but  the  fifty-nine  were  already 
married  and  done  for.  We  saw  the  wedding  party 
come  in,  from  church  I  suppose ;  the  bride,  a  handsome 
dark-eyed  girl,  looked  radiant,  and  beamed  out  smiles 
with  the  kisses  she  was  bestowing  most  graciously  on  a 
bevy  of  lady  friends.  It  was  great  luxury  to  sit  on  the 
terrace  overlooking  the  falls,  and  scribble  my  journal 
under  a  shady  tree  ;  and,  when  that  was  done,  I  jotted 
some  verses  which  have  been-  haunting  me.  The  text 
was  sent  me  lately  ;  I  never  noticed  it  before.  How 
strange  it  is  what  treasures  we  miss  every  time  we  read ! 

DARKNESS  AND   LIGHT. 

"What  I  tell  you  in  darkness,  that  speak  ye  in  light."— MATT.  x.  27. 

He  hath  spoken  in  the  darkness, 

In  the  silence  of  the  night, 
Spoken  sweetly  of  the  Father, 

Words  of  life  and  love  and  light. 
Floating  through  the  sombre  stillness 

Came  the  loved  and  loving  Voice, 
Speaking  peace  and  solemn  gladness, 

That  His  children  might  rejoice. 
What  He  tells  thee  in  the  darkness, 

Songs  He  giveth  in  the  night — 


NEUHAUSEN  TO  ZURICH.  29 

Rise  and  speak  it  in  the  morning, 
Rise  and  sing  them  in  the  light ! 

He  hath  spoken  in  the  darkness, 

In  the  silence  of  thy  grief, 
Sympathy  so  deep  and  tender, 

Mighty  for  thy  heart  relief. 
Speaking  in  thy  night  of  sorrow 

Words  of  comfort  and  of  calm, 
Gently  on  thy  wounded  spirit 

Pouring  true  and  healing  balm. 
What  He  tells  thee  in  the  darkness, 

Weary  watcher  for  the  day, 
Grateful  lip  and  life  should  utter 

When  the  shadows  flee  away. 

He  is  speaking  in  the  darkness, 

Though  thou  canst  not  see  His  face  ; 
More  than  angels  ever  needed, 

Mercy,  pardon,  love,  and  grace  ; 
Speaking  of  the  many  mansions, 

Where  in  safe  and  holy  rest 
Thou  shalt  be  with  Him  for  ever, 

Perfectly  and  always  blest. 
What  He  tells  thee  in  the  darkness, 

Whispers  through  time's  lonely  night, 
Thou  shalt  speak  in  glorious  praises, 

In  the  everlasting  light ! 

We  left  at  1.15,  and  came  on  to  Schaffhausen  and 
had  a  run  into  the  town ;  the  cathedral  is  the  plainest 
barn  that  ever  bore  the  name.  "  A  Methodist  meeting !  " 
opined  H.  C.  The  rail  from  thence  to  Zurich  was  very 
pretty,  giving  glimpses  of  the  Rhine,  which  seemed  to 
get  greener  and  greener.  We  drove  through  Zurich  in 
an  open  carriage,  and  H.  C.  remarked  on  its  very 


3o  5  WISS  LE  TTERS 

prosperous  appearance.  I  reminded  him  that  it  is 
Protestant.  Presently  we  passed  a  private  carriage  with 
some  very  sleek  well-to-do  looking  steeds.  "  Protestant 
horses,  I  suppose  !  "  said  he. 

Not  wishing  for  the  dawdle  of  five  o'clock  table  d'hote, 
we  dined  alone  in  a  side  saloon  tastefully  decorated, 
and  set  off  with  a  few  paintings  of  Swiss  scenery.  As 
we  sat  in  peace  and  silence,  a  band  commenced  in  the 
large  saloon,  to  my  intense  delight,  the  effect  softened 
by  the  closed  doors  which  barred  the  table  d'h6te  clat- 
ter, and  only  let  sweet  sounds  through.  It  was  very 
superior  to  the  Heidelberg  band  ;  I  never  heard  better 
light  and  shade,  or  more  gradual  and  delicate  diminu- 
endos, except  at  the  festivals,  and  to  have  it  all  to  our- 
selves in  such  quiet  was  something  delicious. 

Then  we  walked  in  the  garden,  which  stretches  down 
to  the  lake,  our  first  Swiss  lake  !  It  was  too  hazy  for 
the  distant  mountains,  but  the  nearer  scenery  was  soft 
and  lovely,  the  lake  very  still,  and  delicately  tinted  with 
green  and  purple,  while  the  dipping  sun  caught  the 
scarlet  oars  and  really  snowy  sails  of  numbers  of  bright 
little  boats.  I  intend  systematically  to  let  the  towns 
alone  and  reserve  myself  for  the  beauties  of  nature  ;  one 
gets  knocked  up  if  one  tries  to  do  everything  ;  so  I 
shall  always  rest  (as  now)  while  the  others  are  gone  into 
any  town.  I  am  always  better  for  a  rest,  and  enjoy  the 
views  all  the  more  for  sacrificing  the  architecture. 

June  ii.     ZURICH  TO  BERNE. 

M.  L.  and  her  father  went  for  a  walk  at  6.30  A.M. 
The  whole  day  was  cool  and  hazy.  We  left  at  ten  and 
reached  Berne  at  two  by  a  still  more  beautiful  line  than 


BERNE  TO   THUN.  31 

the  last ;  and  though  we  have  seen  no  snow  yet,  we 
passed  near  a  group  of  sharply-peaked  mountains  unlike 
any  we  have  yet  seen  in  our  lives.  I  had  a  talk  with  an 
old  Swiss  gentleman  from  Winterthiir,  chiefly  on  music. 
He  had  been  in  England  several  times,  and  knew  a  very 
musical  set  personally,  Joachim,  Piatti,  Benedict,  and 
others.  He  was  evidently  really  musical.  He  had  been 
to  some  of  the  English  festivals  ;  but  catch  any  one 
speaking  the  German  tongue  giving  a  good  word  to  any 
English  music  !  "  Yes,  they  were  pretty  fair,  but  the 
English  were  all  infatuated  for  large  orchestras,"  which 
he  considered  a  great  mistake  ;  "  it  was  impossible  to  get 
perfect  light  and  shade  from  five  hundred  performers." 
And  the  Handel  Festival  itself  had  made  no  other  im- 
pression on  him.  I  am  glad  I  have  not  arrived  at  that 
pitch  of  musical  cultivation !  We  went  to  see  the  bears 
in  the  afternoon,  and  had  great  fun  with  them ;  the 
largest  literally  laid  himself  out  for  our  amusement, 
catching  the  cakes  lazily  as  he  rolled  about  on  his  back. 
Berne  is  quite  the  most  novel  and  utterly  foreign  town 
I  have  seen,  the  streets  arcaded  like  Chester,  with  bright 
red  or  orange  cushions  in  every  window  seat,  which 
touch  up  the  grey  stone  effectively  and  complement  the 
bright  green  Venetian  shutters.  We  ought  to  see  the 
Alps  from  our  windows  at  the  Berner  Hof,  which  com- 
mand a  fine  view  even  without  them  ;  but  it  is  hope- 
lessly misty. 

June  12.     BERNE  TO  THUN. 

At  last !  About  five  A.M.  M.  L.  crept  quietly  to  the 
window,  and  I  woke  as  she  passed.  "  Anything  to  see  ?  " 
"  Oh  yes,  I  really  do  believe  I  see  them,"  she  said  quite 


32  SWISS  LETTERS. 

solemnly.  Of  course  I  was  up  in  a  second.  The  sun 
had  risen  above  the  thick  mist,  and  away  in  the  south- 
east were  giant  outlines  bending  towards  him  as  if  they 
had  been  our  mighty  guardian  spirits  all  night,  and 
were  resigning  their  charge  ere  they  flew  away  into 
farther  light.  Anything  less  ethereal  and  less  holy  they 
could  scarcely  be  ;  the  very  mist  was  a  folding  of  wings 
about  their  feet,  and  a  veiling  of  what  might  be  angel 
brows,  grand  and  serene.  It  is  no  use  laughing  at  "fan- 
cies"; wait  till  you  have  seen  what  we  did  from  the  roof 
of  the  Berner  Hof !  The  effect  was  the  more  striking  as 
we  had  scanned  the  southern  horizon  the  evening  be- 
fore with  glasses,  and  not  a  vestige  of  mountains  could 
be  seen  ;  and  now  these  lofty,  shadowy  sentinels  stood 
where  our  senses  had  told  us  there  was  nothing  but  sky, 
not  even  cloud,  tall  and  majestic,  far  out-topping  the 
green  hills  in  front.  The  vision  did  not  last  long  ;  it 
seemed  to  melt  into  light  rather  than  into  mist. 

We  took  a  morning  train  to  Thun,  and  got  letters  and 
luggage,  and  rooms  with  the  very  perfection  of  a  view, 
at  the  Belle  Vue,  rightly  named.  It  was  the  pleasantest 
hour  I  ever  spent  in  a  train,  for  the  Alps  were  visible 
soon  after  leaving  Berne,  and  every  minute  we  were  see- 
ing more  and  more  of  them,  and  of  the  marvellous 
glisten  of  the  glaciers.  In  the  afternoon  we  took  a  boat 
for  a  two  hours'  sail  on  the  lake,  and  saw  the  Jungfrau 
and  Monch  and  Eiger  in  delicious  restful  leisure  ;  and 
the  mountains  looked  at  leisure  too,  so  still  and  mighty 
and  unapproachable  by  any  human  bustle  and  hurry 
and  ferment.  So  now  the  dream  of  all  my  life  is  re- 
alized, and  I  have  seen  snow  mountains !  When  I  was 
quite  a  little  child  the  idea  of  them  took  possession  of 


SUNDA  Y  AT  THUN.  33 

me  ;  at  eight  or  nine  years  old  I  used  to  reverie  about 
them,  and  when  I  heard  the  name  of  the  snow-covered 
Sierra  de  la  Summa  Paz  (perfect  peace),  the  idea  was 
completed,  and  I  thenceforth  always  thought  of  eternal 
snow  and  perfect  peace  together,  and  longed  to  see  the 
one  and  drink  in  the  other.  And  I  am  not  disappointed, 
not  in  the  very  least ;  they  are  just  as  pure  and  bright 
and  peace-suggestive  as  ever  I  dreamt  them.  It  may  be 
rather  in  the  style  of  the  old  women  who  invariably  say 
"  it's  just  like  heaven  "  whenever  they  get  a  comfortable 
tea  meeting ;  but  really  I  never  saw  anything  material 
and  earthly  which  so  suggested  the  ethereal  and  heav- 
enly, which  so  seemed  to  lead  up  to  the  unseen,  to  be 
the  very  steps  of  the  Throne  ;  and  one  could  better 
fancy  them  to  be  the  visible  foundations  of  the  invisible- 
celestial  city,  bearing  some  wonderful  relation  to  its 
transparent  gold  and  crystal  sea,  than  only  snow  and 
granite  rising  out  of  this  same  every-day  earth  we  are 
treading,  dusty  and  stony. 

June  13.     SUNDAY  AT  THUN. 

And  rather  an  ideal  Sunday  too,  calm  and  bright  and 
quiet,  and  with  "  beauty  all  around  our  path."  I  went 
to  the  German,  or  rather  Swiss,  service,  guided  by  the 
"sweet  bells  jangled,"  though  not  "out  of  tune,"  only 
out  of  all  order  and  rhythm,  as  continental  bells  always 
are. 

The  Swiss  punctuality,  which  so  far  we  have  found 
perfect,  extended  to  the  service,  for  though  I  was  in  full 
two  minutes  before  the  organ  began,  not  half  a  dozen 
came  in  after  me,  and  the  church  was  full.  More  than 
half  the  feminine  part  were  in  costume ;  I  looked  over 
3 


34  SWISS  LETTERS. 


the  hymn  with  a  velvet-bodiced,  white-sleeved  maiden. 
It  was  an  old  favourite. of  mine  :  "Praise  ye  the  Lord, 
the  mighty  King  of  glory."  Then  the  preacher  read 
the  eighth  Psalm,  which  was  his  text.  The  first  part 
was  on  God's  glory  in  creation  ;  he  worked  up  a  rather 
eloquent  rhapsody  into  the  climax  :  "  And  who  of  all  on 
the  face  of  the  earth  should  so  praise  God  for  the  splen- 
dour which  He  has  poured  out  upon  His  works  as  we 
Swiss,  in  this  our  blessed  and  beautiful  fatherland !  " 
The  old  man  said  it  with  a  patriotic  emphasis  worthy  of 
a  son  of  Tell.  After  service  the  whole  congregation 
lingered  for  quite  half  an  hour  in  the  churchyard,  which 
commanded  a  magnificent  view  on  all  sides  up  and 
down  the  valley,  for  the  church  crowns  a  little  round 
hill  standing  alone.  Many  went  to  different  graves  and 
gathered  a  flower  or  adjusted  a  creeper.  The  inscrip- 
tions were  chiefly  on  little  brass  plates,  brightly  polished, 
on  neat  iron  standards  three  or  four  feet  high  ;  the 
greater  part  were  verses  of  affectionate  remembrance,  or 
passages  of  well-known  chorales,  but  there  were  many 
Scripture  ones  too.  On  one  side  were  several  English 
graves  :  one  was  to  Frances  Hatfield,  aged  15  ;  it  had 
been  beautifully  arranged,  but  now  the  little  railing  was 
rusty,  and  the  rosebush  was  straggling,  and  the  weeds 
were  rank  at  its  foot.  Perhaps  there  are  sorrowful 
hearts  in  England,  to  whom  that  little  foreign  grave  is 
very  dear. 

The  English  service  in  the  evening  was  very  pleasant 
and  quiet,  a  nice  little  sermon  on  "  When  ye  pray,  say, 
Our  Father,"  etc.,  from  the  chaplain,  Rev.  E.  Venables, 
son-in-law  of  Frank's  godfather,  to  whom  M.  introduced 
herself  next  day. 


INTERLACHEN  TO  LAUTERBRUNNEN.         35 

June  14.     THUN  TO  INTERLACHEN. 

A  day  of  considerable  variation  as  to  plans,  the 
morning  being  stormy  ;  but  as  the  sun  came  out  in  the 
afternoon  we  took  the  three  o'clock  steamer  to  Inter- 
lachen.  But  before  we  were  two  miles  down  the  lake  it 
commenced  pouring,  and  soon  the  steamer  seemed  to  be 
charging  a  rampart  of  fog,  any  view  being  hopeless,  and 
we  continued  rushing  through  the  wild  storm  till  we 
landed  at  Interlachen,  and  were  safely  omnibused  to  the 
Jungfraublick,  the  highest  hotel  in  Interlachen  (which 
has  the  reputation  of  being  hot  and  close  and  sleepless). 
Here  we  are  perched  on  a  terrace  looking  down  into  the 
valley,  with  the  Jungfrau  looking  down  upon  us  between 
two  steep  wooded  hills,  shining  out  of  grey  clouds  every 
now  and  then  like  a  sudden  smile,  with  that  wonderful 
intensity  of  whiteness  which  to  me  gives  a  totally  new 
force  to  "  whiter  than  snow."  And  I  see  too  how  per- 
fectly the  evangelists  complete  each  other's  description 
of  our  Lord's  transfiguration  raiment  (St.  Matthew  says 
it  was  "white  as  the  light,"  St.  Mark  "exceeding  white 
as  snow"),  for  this  Alpine  snow  is  light  materialized  and 
snow  etherealized,  it  is  a  combination  of  the  impres- 
sions of  each.  I  came  across  "  solidified  hydrogen  "  the 
other  day,  which  rather  astonished  me;  but  now  I  seein 
to  have  seen  solidified  light. 

June  15.  INTERLACHEN  TO  LAUTERBRUNNEN. 

We  looked  out  upon  a  morning  view  of  grey  driving 
cloud,  where  mountain  summits  ought  to  have  been, 
with  glimpses  of  snow  on  heights  which  were  certainly 


36  SWISS  LETTERS. 

bare  the  evening  before.  But  a  wet  morning  enables 
one  to  pay  off  arrears  of  scribbles  and  stitches,  so  we 
wrote  letters  and  sang  duets  and  chatted  with  an  agree- 
able English  lady  who  was  pedestrianizing  with  her 
brother.  Table  d'hote  in  a  superb  saloon,  every  chair 
carved,  and  all  else  in  proportion.  We  sat  next  four 
Germans.  Foreigners  call  the  English  unsociable,  but 
not  once  as  yet  (except  the  Italian  at  Heidelberg)  has  a 
single  foreigner  addressed  us  for  the  sake  of  sociability  ; 
we  have  always  spoken  first,  and  so  to-day.  One  gentle- 
man was  evidently  superior  and  cultivated,  with  a  posi- 
tively brilliant  flow  of  language  ;  he  was  discussing  the 
various  construction  of  different  languages,  and  then 
varieties  of  German  construction,  and  gave  fluent  and 
clever  illustrations  of  each.  After  rain,  sunshine  ;  so 
we  set  off  at  four  in  an  open  carriage  to  Lauterbrunnen 
in  a  perfectly  transparent  atmosphere.  Fancy  nine 
miles'  drive  up  a  deep  valley,  hills  six  or  seven  thousand 
feet  high  on  each  side,  wooded  wherever  trees  could 
get  root,  and  where  not,  rocky  and  precipitous,  between 
them  at  each  opening  views  of  snow  mountains  glitter- 
ing in  brilliant  light ;  below,  a  wild  stream,  the  Liit- 
schine,  rushing  in  one  perpetual  downhill  of  rapids  and 
little  falls  ;  every  now  and  then  a  silver  thread  of  a 
waterfall  gleaming  out  on  the  farther  side  of  the  valley, 
or  a  broad  riband  of  one  dashing  down  the  nearer  side 
to  our  very  feet,  to  be  crossed  by  a  little  bridge,  then 
the  whole  picture  "  grounded "  with  all  shades  of  the 
freshest,  brightest  green,  still  wet  with  the  morning's 
rain  and  canopied  with  vivid  blue.  And  at  every  turn 
coming  nearer  to  the  Jungfrau,  "  Queen  of  the  Alps," 
which  fills  up  the  valley  in  front,  and  only  hides  herself 


IN  TERLA  CHEN  TO  LA  U  TERBR  UNNEN.          37 

again  when  we  get  too  close  under  her  silver  throne ! 
Was  not  this  "  something  like  "  ? 

It  struck  me  again  here,  as  in  Scotland  last  summer, 
what  marvellous  lavishment  of  beauty  God  has  poured 
upon  the  details  of  His  works.  For  here,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  these  culminations  of  earthly  magnificence, 
scenes  beyond  what  we  ever  saw  before,  if  the  eye 
dropped  and  rested  on  the  very  ground  it  was  just  as 
•beautiful  in  its  proportion  as  if  there  were  no  other 
loveliness  for  us  far  or  near;  ferns,  and  flowers,  and 
grasses,  and  mossy  boulders,  and  tiny  streams,  every 
square  foot  being  a  little  world  of  beauty.  One  item  in 
these  minor  charms  was  the  luxuriant  way  in  which  the 
firs  had  sown  themselves,  thousands  of  wee  fir  trees 
springing  up  on  banks  and  among  rocks,  some  standing 
alone  in  green  tiny  gracefulness,  others  growing  in  the 
prettiest  little  miniature  groves  you  can  imagine.  I 
never  saw  firs  growing  this  way  anywhere  else ;  they 
were  like  kittens  to  cats,  so  very  pretty  and  petable. 

Near  Lauterbrunnen  we  passed  under  tremendous 
bastions  of  rock  as  the  gorge  narrowed  in  ;  and  then 
saw  the  long  waving  veil  of  delicate  white  mist,  and 
needed  no  telling  that  it  was  the  Staubbach.  We  walked 
on  to  its  foot,  and  H.  C.  irreverently  suggested  what  a 
first-rate  shower  bath  it  would  be !  I  should  not  mind 
trying,  it  comes  down  so  temptingly  and  fairily,  not 
nearly  so  substantially  as  in  its  picture.  We  walked  a 
mile  or  more  up  the  valley,  enjoying  the  evening  sun- 
shine on  the  Jungfrau,  and  its  shining  and  most-pure 
Silberhorn  and  other  white  peaks  before  us.  And  just 
as  we  returned,  and  the  valley  was  darkening,  lo  "  the 
afterglow,"  which  I  so  much  wished  to  see.  Rosy  gold, 


38  'SWISS  LETTERS. 

or  golden  rosiness,  comes  as  near  as  I  can  give  it ;  but 
words  of  any  sort  are  not  much  use.  One  more  effect 
was  still  in  reserve  :  when  we  came  up  to  our  room,  the 
crescent  moon  was  shedding  a  pale  holy  glimmer  over 
the  snow,  and  the  sky  behind  it  was  no  invisible  purple 
or  neutral  tint,  but  a  most  ethereal  blue,  which  I  never 
saw  at  night  before  and  do  not  understand. 

June  16.     LAUTERBRUNNEN  TO  MURREN. 

To  open  our  eyes  upon  the  Jungfrau  itself  before  one 
even  raised  one's  head  from  the  pillow  was  very  like  a 
dream  !  At  nine  we  started,  all  on  horses  ;  the  creatures 
had  lively  heads,  and  were  very  knowing  and  cautious 
in  picking  their  way.  "  Mine  is  a  most  stupid  beast," 
says  H.  C.,  "  and  a  great  deal  more  afraid  of  breaking 
his  knees  than  I  am."  We  did  not  consider  this  con- 
clusive as  to  his  stupidity,  and  think  it  must  be  rather 
advantageous  to  ride  such  "  stupid  beasts  "  up  and  down 
such  break-neck  places.  The  road  to  Miirren  was  to 
take  us  over  the  top  of  the  Staubbach,  which  was  rather 
incomprehensible,  as  the  sides  of  the  valley  look  nearly 
perpendicular,  and  a  good  part  is  absolutely  so.  But  a 
path  developed  itself  by  degrees  up  an  unnoticed  ravine, 
a  series  of  tremendously  sharp  steep  zigzags  and  shelves 
over  precipices,  and  crossings  of  wild  little  burns,  about 
one-fourth  torrent  and  three-fourths  waterfall.  When 
we  got  to  the  Staubbach  we  dismounted,  and  scrambled 
to  the  very  edge  from  which  it  takes  the  one  leap  of  925 
feet  sheer  down  into  the  valley  !  The  guide  was  a  little 
anxious,  and  kept  warning  us  to  hold  fast  by  the  small 
trees;  a  slip  on  that  "mossy  bank"  would  have  been 
too  awful  to  think  of. 


LAUTERBRUNNEN  TO  MURREN.  39 

After  this,  though  still  very  steep,  the  path  was  easier, 
lying  chiefly  through  fir  woods,  the  slope  being  so  great 
one  wondered  how  they  could  grow  at  all,  and  the  tops 
of  tall  trees  were  close  below  us.  At  every  turn,  as  we 
rose  higher  and  higher  directly  opposite  the  Jungfrau, 
she  seemed  to  grow  grander  and  grander,  and  we  began 
to  realize  her  stature.  Tremendous  precipices  rise  like 
Titan  walls  out  of  the  valley,  then  rock  and  snow  strug- 
gle for  predominance,  then  snow  prevails,  and  the  Sil- 
berhorn  rises  in  one  smooth  curved  cone  of  pure  un- 
broken white,  and  the  real  summit  towers  still  higher 
behind,  dazzling  even  against  the  dazzling  sky.  "It 
will  be  finer  yet,"  said  our  guide,  Perther.  "  How  can 
that  be  ?  "  "  You  will  see !  "  It  was  true  ;  when  we 
finally  came  out  of  the  forest  the  Jungfrau  was  still  the 
centre,  but  only  the  centre  point  of  the  grandest  of  even 
Alpine  amphitheatres.  On  her  right  the  white  Monk 
and  the  Eiger  with  its  perpendicular  side  in  full  view,  on 
the  left  the  Rothhorn,  Breithorn,  and  Sparrenhorn,  in 
stately  range ;  glaciers,  avalanche  tracks,  snow-fields, 
snow-walls,  and  everything  Alpine  that  ever  one  heard 
of,  all  in  one  view.  And  all  the  while  "the  grass  of  the 
field  "  was  as  lovely  as  ever  at  our  feet,  sheets  of  flowers 
around  us,  all  delicate  and  tiny  and  exquisite,  just  the 
other  pole  of  the  world  of  the  Beautiful. 

M.  seemed  to  know  them  all,  though  there  was  an  im- 
mense variety.  We  gathered  gentiandlas  large  and 
small,  and  it  is  heresy  to  have  no  raptures  for  them  ;  but 
for  a  perfect  eye-delight  of  blue,  commend  me  to  the 
Alpine  forget-me-not,  I  never  saw  anything  prettier  in 
shape  and  colour ;  and  they  grew  as  buttercups  do  with 


4o  SWISS  LETTERS. 

us,  by  millions,  like  turquoises,  only  alive  and  positively 
smiling. 

We  reached  Miirren  at  eleven.  It  is  a  little  village  to 
which  there  is  no  nearer  or  easier  way  than  that  by 
which  we  came,  and  all  the  people  want  has  to  be  car- 
ried on  mules.  "But  they  don't  want  much,"  said  the 
guide  ;  "they  have  wood  and  cows,  and  they  don't  need 
anything  else  except  coffee  and  flour  and  a  little  cloth." 
There  are  too  few  for  a  church,  so  they  come  all  the 
way  to  Lauterbrunnen  on  Sunday,  except  in  the  winter, 
when  they  are  entirely  snowed  up  for  weeks  together, 
and  even  Lauterbrunnen  is  in  pretty  much  the  same 
predicament. 

We  set  off  on  foot  to  get  as  much  higher  as  we  could 
by  goat  paths,  and  soon  came  to  little  patches  of  snow 
which  did  not  seem  in  the  least  to  interfere  with  the 
flowers,  but  glittered  on  in  a  "  happy  family  "  sort  of 
way  among  the  forget-me-nots  and  saxifrage.  But 
clouds  were  gathering  on  the  heights  and  coming  lower 
rather  suddenly,  so  we  were  all  in  very  good  time  for  the 
table  d'hdte  at  one  o'clock ;  we  thought  we  ought  only 
to  have  feasted  on  goat's  milk  and  such  like,  at  5,465 
feet  above  sea  level !  Before  we  rose  it  was  sleeting 
fast,  and  beyond  ten  yards  nothing  was  visible.  The 
next  hour  or  two  was  decidedly  lively  ;  there  was  differ- 
ence of  opinion  as  to  weather,  so  some  started  and 
others  waited,  but  everybody  had  taken  atmospheric 
champagne,  and  was  in  the  best  possible  spirits,  and  all 
crowded  to  the  door  to  see  each  departure  and  get  as 
much  fun  as  possible  out  of  it.  Two  good-tempered  and 
most  plucky  English  ladies  actually  set  off  to  the  Stach- 
elberg,  some  miles  farther  and  a  good  deal  higher,  and 


LAUTERBRUNNEN  TO  MURREN.  41 

did  not  care  whether  they  saw  anything  at  all,  so  that 
they  went.  Our  German  acquaintances  from  Interlachen 
were  there,  and  rattled  away  most  amusingly.  One  of 
them,  a  sweet-looking  girl,  reminding  us  a  little  of 
Emily  B.,  took  H.  C.'s  fancy  greatly  and  made  herself 
most  agreeable  in  pretty  broken  English.  One  of  the 
gentlemen  said  both  his  ladies  had  fallen  in  love  with 
him,  and  he  must  have  shared  in  the  fascination,  for  he 
offered  H.  C.  two  tickets,  freeing  a  great  deal  of  Italian 
travel,  including  fare  from  hence,  to  use,  if  he  would  do 
him  the  honour  to  accept  them  !  In  the  midst  of  it  two 
Liverpool  gentlemen  came  down  from  the  Schilthorn, 
for  which  they  had  started  at  three  A.M.,  leaving  their 
wives  to  amuse  themselves  with  watching  them  through 
a  telescope,  and  it  was  rather  fresh  and  interesting  to 
hear  them  talk  of  being  dug  out  of  the  snow  only  two 
hours  before,  and  other  small  adventures  of  the  kind. 
We  waited  longer  than  most,  and  at  last  set  off  in  heavy 
rain  and  sleet.  We  looked  down  on  formless  cloud  and 
fog,  with  no  outline  and  no  colour,  filling  an  indefinite 
abyss,  now  and  then  shapeless  openings  disclosing  darker 
cloud.  We  intended  walking  down  all  the  worst  places, 
but  it  was  so  wet  and  dirty,  and  the  guides  were  so  re- 
assuring, that  we  stuck  valiantly  on  till  we  reached  the 
Staubbach  again.  Here  we  dismounted  and  raced 
down  the  hill.  The  guides  having  pronounced  H.  C. 
"  a  right  good  rider,"  he  had  been  allowed  to  go  forward 
alone,  and  we  found  him  comfortably  settled  at  the 
hotel.  "  Why,  papa !  "  said  M.,  "  did  you  ride  down 
all  those  staircases  ?  "  "  Why  not  ?  "  said  he  ;  "  the 
horse  had  got  to  come  down,  and  he  might  as  well  take 
me  on  his  back  as  not !  " 


42  SWISS  LET  TEX  S. 

June  17.     LAUTERBRUNNEN  TO  GRINDELWALD. 

A  very  lovely  but  uncertain-looking  morning,  which 
finally  cleared  up  radiantly.  We  got  photographs  from 
Yakob  Huggler,  a  clever  peasant  carver,  at  his  stall  of 
alpenstocks  and  knicknacks  close  by.  The  drive  to 
Grindelwald  was  much  such  another  as  that  to  Lauter- 
brunnen,  with  the  Wetterhorn  instead  of  the  Jungfrau 
before  us  and  the  valley  rather  wider.  The  twin 
Liitschinen  streams  meet  at  its  entrance,  and  we  fol- 
lowed the  black  instead  of  the  white  Liitschine.  On 
nearing  Grindelwald,  the  driver  told  us  we  should  see 
the  lower  glacier  round  the  next  corner,  so  we  looked 
eagerly  and  saw — a  dirty  mass  of  stones  and  grey  mud, 
among  which  peered  out  dirty  ice  and  snow,  worthy 
of  the  Black  Country  itself.  So  we  concluded  it  to  be  a 
delusion  and  a  snare,  and  went  to  the  upper  glacier  in- 
stead, which  is  much  purer.  We  had  a  lovely  walk  and 
ride  to  its  foot,  which  is  like  a  very  wild  and  wide  sea 
beach  all  barren  and  desolate.  We  scrambled  a  little 
way  up  the  sloping  ice,  but  the  man  in  charge  urged  us 
not  to  go  on,  for  the  edge  of  the  glacier  itself,  high 
above  us,  was  constantly  breaking  away  and  it  was  very 
dangerous,  so  we  came  down  after  inspecting  a  snowball 
big  enough  to  have  killed  half  a  dozen  people,  which 
had  fallen  only  a  few  hours  before  ;  we  attacked  it  arid 
ate  avalanche,  and  found  it  very  refreshing.  We  went 
into  an  ice  grotto,  blue  and  glistening  and  transparent, 
but  too  evidently  neatly  hollowed  out  and  not  natural, 
so  I  did  not  feel  frantic  about  it. 

It  is  immense  fun  meeting  all  sorts  of  people  over  and 
over  again.  Already  we  have  so  many  acquaintances 


GRINDELWALD  TO  INTERLACHEN. 


43 


that  we  meet  some  everywhere  whom  we  had  met  be- 
fore. To-day  the  amusing  heroines  of  the  Stachelberg 
came  to  our  inn,  and  on  our  way  to  the  glacier  we  saw 
our  German  friends  coming  down  a  bank  upon  us  ;  one 
instantly  hoisted  his  cap  on  his  alpenstock  and  waved  a 
merry  welcome.  Last  night  some  Thun  friends  walked 
in  to  Lauterbrunnen,  and  we  improved  the  acquaintance. 
The  chambermaids  are  a  specialty  of  mine,  and  inter- 
est me ;  they  are  always  pleasant  and  obliging,  and 
generally  very  intelligent  girls.  They  all  say  they  can 
never  go  to  church,  as  Sunday  is  usually  the  busiest 
day  ;  they  always  seem  extremely  pleased  to  be  chatted 
with. 

June  1 8.     GRINDELWALD  TO  INTERLACHEN. 

Thick  and  threatening  all  day,  and  we  drove  to  Inter- 
lachen  early.  On  the  way  we  passed  an  alpenhorn 
played  by  a  small  boy  not  nearly  so  tall  as  the  horn  was 
long.  It  is  fastened  on  a  pivot,  so  as  to  command  dif- 
ferent echoes.  The  alpenhorn s  are  best  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, which  softens  the  tone  and  assimilates  it  more 
nearly  to  the  flute-like  sweetness  of  the  echo,  which 
seems  a  sort  of  fairy  answer  coming  out  of  some  magical 
hall  in  the  rock.  The  strain  oftenest  repeated,  and  per- 
haps the  most  telling,  was  this  : 


The  tone  is  very  powerful,  and  the  middle  notes  ex- 
tremely mellow. 
We  had  aspiring  ideas  as  to  the  Scheinige  Platte,  the 


44  SWJSS  LETTERS. 

nearest  height  to  our  hotel,  6,000  feet ;  but  clouds  hung 
heavy  all  round,  so  we  came  down  to  a  walk  across  the 
valley  to  Hohbiihl.  The  afternoon  also  was  not  fine 
enough  to  be  worth  an  excursion,  so  M.  and  I  rested, 
and  M.  L.  and  her  papa  had  a  walk. 

June  19.     INTERLACHEN. 

The  weather  settled  our  plans  for  us,  as  it  rained 
nearly  all  day.  In  the  morning,  curious  long  soft  white 
clouds  went  slowly  creeping  along  the  Scheinige  Platte, 
"like  great  white  Persian  cats,"  said  M.;  and  in  the 
evening  they  assembled  in  force  on  the  top,  and  came 
down  in  a  heavy  snow-storm.  So  we  had  a  quiet  day. 
Before  settling  to  letters  and  work  I  wrote 

EVENING   TEARS   AND    MORNING    SONGS. 

"  Weeping  may  endure  in  the  evening,  but  singing  cometh  in  the  morning."— 
Marginal  reading  of  PSALM  xxx.  5. 

IN  the  evening  there  is  weeping, 
Lengthening  shadows,  failing  sight, 

Silent  darkness,  slowly  creeping 
Over  all  things  dear  and  bright. 

In  the  evening  there  is  weeping, 
Lasting  all  the  twilight  through  ; 

Phantom  sorrows,  never  sleeping, 
Wakening  slumbers  of  the  true. 

In  the  morning  cometh  singing, 

Cometh  joy,  and  cometh  sight, 
When  the  sun  ariseth,  bringing 

Healing  on  his  wings  of  light. 


SUNDA  Y  AT  INTERLA CHEN.  45 

In  the  evening  cometh  singing, 

Songs  that  ne'er  in  silence  end, 
Angel  minstrels  ever  bringing 

Praises  new  with  thine  to  blend. 

Are  the  twilight  shadows  casting 

Heavy  glooms  upon  thy  heart? 
Soon  in  radiance  everlasting 

Night  for  ever  shall  depart. 

Art  thou  weeping,  sad  and  lonely, 

Through  the  evening  of  thy  days  ? 
All  thy  sighing  shall  be  only 

Prelude  of  more  perfect  praise. 

Darkest  hour  is  nearest  dawning, 

Solemn  herald  of  the  day  ; 
Singing  cometh  in  the  morning, 

God  shall  wipe  thy  tears  away. 


June  20.     SUNDAY  AT  INTERLACHEN. 

The  service  for  the  Queen's  accession  was  used  at  the 
English  church  with  the  Communion  service.  Text, 
Matt.  xxii.  21,  "Render  unto  Cassar,"  etc.  All  was 
orderly  and  nice  ;  moreover  we  had  reasonable  chants 
and  no  galloping.  The  evening  service  was  at  six  ;  text 
from  the  first  lesson.  A  showery  day  ended  in  a  splen- 
did evening,  and  when  we  came  out  of  church  the  Jung- 
frau  was  glowing  with  that  indescribable  tint,  golden 
snow  with  a  touch  of  rose,  shining  out  between  two  dark 
heights  magnificent  in  purple  and  green  and  bronze, 
with  a  coronet  of  the  fresh  snow  lingering  on  their  sum- 
mits, and  the  shadows  of  the  western  mountains  darken- 
ing the  fir  woods  of  their  base  and  sides.  I  overheard 


46  SWISS  LETTERS. 

a  little  girl  say,  "  Mamma,  I  think  the  Jungfrau  would 
do  to  form  the  great  white  throne  of  God."  That  ex- 
presses it.  Later  we  had  quite  a  treat :  an  American 
lady,  one  of  two  couples  who  have  sat  next  us  at  dinner, 
came  down  at  my  entreaty  to  sing.  She  gave  Mendels- 
sohn's "  Oh  that  I  had  wings  of  a  dove  "  very  beautifully, 
and  "  But  Thou  didst  not  leave,"  and  "  Come  unto  Him." 
I  was  positively  thankful  for  her  music,  as  the  news  had 
just  reached  us  of  that  horrid  wicked  bill  having  passed 
the  Lords,  and  one  needed  a  little  soothing  after  that.* 

Mutual  acquaintances  always  do  turn  up  ;  so  though 
I  only  know  two  people  in  all  America,  she  knew  one  of 
them,  Dr.  Lowell  Mason,  and  was  distantly  connected 
with  him  by  marriage,  and  had  been  in  his  singing 
classes.  She  had  greatly  enjoyed  English  cathedral 
services,  but  thought  it  a  great  mistake  to  introduce 
anything  of  the  sort  into  parish  churches,  or  indeed  into 
America  at  all ;  they  belonged  to  the  real  old  cathedrals, 
and  should  never  be  separated  from  them. 

June  21.  WEATHERBOUND  AT  INTERLACHEN. 

Certainly  the  shortest  longest  day  I  ever  spent !  It 
poured  from  morning  till  night,  but  we  resigned  our- 
selves to  it,  and  had  a  very  pleasant  day.  A  German 
gentleman  asked  H.  C.  to  play  chess,  which  he  did  ;  and 
I  had  two  games  also,  and  found  him  the  best  player  I 
had  ever  met,  and  the  most  rapid ;  it  was  quite  a  treat 
to  see  his  instantaneous  pounce  on  the  rightjnan,  and 
his  unhesitating  setting  of  it  in  the  right  place.  He 


*  The  bill  for  the  Disestablishment  of  the  Irish  Church. 


INTERLACHEN  TO  GIESSBACH,  47 

played  again  in  the  evening  with  H.  C.,  and  then  with 
M.  L.  He  also  plays  the  flute,  and  I  accompanied  him 
for  an  hour  or  more.  We  had  a  good  deal  of  music  and 
talk  in  the  evening.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fane,  whom  we  met 
at  Thun  and  Lauterbrunnen,  make  themselves  very 
agreeable.  Some  German  ladies,  including  a  nice  little 
girl,  seemed  delighted  with  the  music  and  thanked  me 
warmly.  After  I  had  sung  "O  rest  in  the  Lord,"  a 
Scotch  lady  came  and  talked  to  me  most  refreshingly. 
She  had  just  met  Dr.  Guthrie  at  Lucerne,  and  talked 
about  the  Sunday  Magazine ;  and  we  got  on  so  well 
that  after  a  while  I  introduced  "  F.  R.  H."  to  her,  whom 
she  knew  perfectly  well,  and  gave  me  a  hearty  invita- 
tion to  visit  her  at  Falkirk. 

The  "portier  "  at  the  Jungfraublick  is  quite  a  charac- 
ter ;  he  superintends  arrivals,  letters,  and  money  mat- 
ters, and  sits  in  an  office  in  uniform.  I  left  my  "  Ministry 
of  Song "  downstairs  one  night,  and  in  the  morning  I 
found  the  portier  reading  it.  When  we  came  again  M. 
had  put  a  "pro  bono  publico  "  copy  in  the  reading  room, 
and  this  he  carried  off  likewise,  and  asked  me  if  he 
might  keep  it  till  we  left,  as  he  could  read  English,  and 
was  so  fond  of  poetry,  and  thought  mine  "most  beauti- 
ful ! "  He  said  his  wife  had  a  pension  near  Geneva, 
at  which  Russians  stayed  ;  also  he  knew  Longfellow 
personally  and  poetically,  and  admired  him  extremely 
in  both  respects,  and  knew  many  of  his  poems  by  heart, 
and  quoted  part  of  the  "  Psalm  of  Life,"  to  prove  his 
words,  I  suppose. 

June  22.     INTERLACHEN  TO  GIESSBACH. 
A  bright  though  threatening  morning,   so  a  general 
exodus  seemed  to  take  place.     We  steamed  down  the 


SWISS  LETTERS. 


Jake  of  Brienz  to  Giessbach,  and  as  my  Scotch  friend 
was  on  board  we  had  another  talk.  She  gave  me  a 
pretty  thought:  we  spoke  of  cloud- shadows  :  "Yes," 
she  said,  "  but  they  are  the  shadow  of  His  chariot,  for 
'  He  maketh  the  clouds  His  chariot.'  "  We  went  to  see 
the  falls,  which  are  very  lovely,  a  whole  series  one  above 
another,  at  least  a  dozen,  and  each  a  picture  in  itself ; 
but  just  as  we  passed  on  a  little  wooden  path  underneath 
a  splendid  curved  leap  of  water,  I  became  faint  and  had 
to  turn  back  and  go  to  bed.  The  others  went  to  see 
them  illuminated  at  9.30,  and  seemed  to  think  the  effect 
very  fine. 

June  23.     GIESSBACH  TO  MEYRINGEN. 

A  lovely  morning,  and  I  was  able  to  get  up  in  time 
for  the  eleven  o'clock  steamer  to  cross  the  lake  to 
Brienz,  and  then  we  had  a  nine  miles'  drive  along  the 
valley  to  Meyringen.  Although  M.  and  I  had  both  been 
invalids,  curiosity  and  excitement  seemed  to  do  us  good, 
for  we  ventured  down  a  horrible  and  wonderful  place, 
the  "  Finsteraar  Schlucht,"  or  "  Black  gorge  of  the  Aar," 
which  strangely  enough  none  of  our  guidebooks  men- 
tion, though  we  thought  it  worth  going  miles  to  see.  It 
is  a  sharp  descent,  mostly  by  little  wooden  steps,  into 
what  at  first  looks  like  a  lofty  cavern,  very  narrow,  the 
rock  on  each  side  hollowed  out  in  most  curious  round 
or  oval  sweeps,  with  sharp  jagged  edges  all  bending  over, 
and  quite  or  nearly  meeting  overhead.  It  is  full  of  the 
sound  of  rushing  water,  but  we  saw  none  till  near  the 
bottom,  and  then  the  witch-hole  opens  out  upon  the 
Aar,  tearing  along  apparently  from  nowhere  to  nowhere, 
shut  in  by  two  awful  walls  of  rock  five  hundred  feet 


ME  YRINGEN  TO  ROSENLA  UI.  49 

high,  with  just  room  enough  below  for  the  narrow  strong 
river  and  a  beach  like  the  sea,  three  or  four  yards  wide 
on  one  side,  and  the  rocks  overhanging  so  much  that 
there  is  the  merest  little  slit  of  sky.  Said  M.,  "We  have 
got  into  Dante  ! "  How  we  ever  got  up  the  stones  and 
steps  again  I  don't  know  ;  but  we  revivified  with  some 
red  wine  at  a  little  auberge  close  by,  and  so  got  home  ; 
and  I  had  a  delicious  sleep  of  nearly  ten  hours. 

June  24.     MEYRINGEN  TO  ROSENLAUI. 

At  last  M.  yielded  to  a  chaise  &  porteur,  inasmuch  as 
the  guidebook  describes  the  first  of  the  ascent  to  Rosen- 
laui  as  a  "  ruined  stair  two  thousand  feet  long."  We 
rode,  and  these  Swiss  horses  would  go  up  St.  Paul's  or  the 
Pyramids  apparently.  After  some  time  the  ascent  was 
less  stiff,  the  path  leading  along  the  side  of  an  upland 
valley,  with  the  Reichenbach  roaring  below,  and  fine 
precipices  rising  straight  from  its  edge  on  the  other  side  ; 
the  last  part  of  the  way  was  level,  and  might  have  been 
any  English  valley  with  a  brook  at  the  bottom,  but  for 
the  sight  of  the  Wellhorn  rising  in  front,  with  a  glimpse 
of  glacier  through  a  cloud  at  its  side.  The  Rosenlaui 
glacier  is  diminishing  so  rapidly  that  an  immense  basin  of 
rock,  which  took  us  nearly  half  an  hour  to  skirt,  was  full 
of  ice  only  twelve  years  ago.  As  we  returned  we  thought 
we  should  like  a  canter,  and  told  the  guide  we  would  wait 
for  him  before  the  descent  began  ;  but  he  scorned  the 
idea  of  being  waited  for,  he  liked  a  run  as  well  as  we, 
any  pace  was  all  the  same  to  him.  Whatever  H.  C.  rides 
is  cure  to  go,  and  my  pretty  grey  four-year-old  pony  was 
quite  of  our  mind  as  to  a  canter;  but  our  guide  was 
equal  to  anything,  and  raced  and  laughed  and  leaped 
4 


50  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

the  boggy  bits  with  his  alpenstock  without  regard  for 
his  limbs  or  lungs.  We  went  round  by  the  Reichenbach 
falls  ;  and  now  for  a  piece  of  unmitigated  heresy.  I  am 
inclined  to  class  waterfalls  among  the  good  things  of 
which  one  can  have  too  much  !  I  calculated  on  silence 
among  these  mountains  ;  and  instead  of  it,  one  has  to 
shout  to  be  heard  above  the  noise.  Every  valley  has  its 
roar  and  rush  of  water,  with  a  cataract  every  two  or 
three  hundred  yards,  leaping  to  join  the  chorus  of  tor- 
rents below,  from  the  chorus  of  torrents  above,  and  mak- 
ing one  appreciate  Wordsworth's  line,  which  I  used  to 
think  far-fetched  : 

"  The  cataracts  blow  their  trumpets  from  the  steep." 

All  night  long  you  hear  it,  and  clearer  and  louder  than 
by  day.  From  our  window  at  Meyringen  five  separate 
waterfalls  were  within  sight  and  sound.  It  is  a  snd  case 
of  nerves  versus  poetry,  and  will  go  far  to  prove  the 
truth  with  which  a  chaplain  hereabout  took  my  measure, 
his  conclusion  being  that  I  was  "  very  matter  of  fact, 
and  had  no  poetry  in  me !  " 

June  25.     MEYRINGEN  TO  LUCERNE. 

We  chartered  a  return  carriage  from  Meyringen  to 
Lucerne  with  four  horses,  and  built  to  carry  ten  persons, 
so  we  had  room  enough !  This  was  again  a  fine  morn- 
ing, though  hazy,  and  the  passing  magnificence  of  that 
drive  over  the  Briinig,  with  the  valley  of  Meyringen  at 
our  feet  and  the  Oberland  giants  beyond,  is  one  of  the 
scenes  least  likely  to  be  forgotten.  Our  mid-day  halt  at 
Sarnen  and  the  glimpse  up  the  Melchthal  took  one  back 


AT  THE  SCHWEIZERHOF  HOTEL.  51 

into  the  old  days,  or  rather  into  Schiller's  revivification 
of  them.  The  last  ten  miles  lay  along  the  lake  of  Lu- 
cerne, round  the  base  of  Pilatus  ;  but  it  was  not  a  clear 
evening,  and  my  first  impression  was  one  of  extreme 
disappointment.  It  was  lovely,  no  doubt,  but  on  such 
a  small  scale  compared  to  the  Alps  behind  us,  and  I  had 
given  my  allegiance  so  utterly  to  them,  that  I  could  not 
instantly  transfer  it  to  anything  so  different.  Snow 
mountains  are  not  less  to  me  now  than  in  my  child 
dreams,  and  Lucerne  is  a  town !  so  I  did  not  take  kindly 
to  it. 

June  26.    AT  THE  SCHWEIZERHOF  HOTEL,  LUCERNE. 

The  weather  seems  settling  at  last,  and  it  is  fine  and 
even  hot.  We  were  to  do  nothing  to-day,  and  unhap- 
pily it  occurred  to  me  to  go  and  assist  at  the  practice 
in  the  English  church,  so  we  utterly  wasted  an  hour 
and  a  half's  sunshine  in  trying  over  tunes  and  listening 
to  remarks  of  the  usual  calibre  of  amateur  choirs.  Some- 
body tried  over  a  "new  tune,"  melody  meagre  and  en- 
tirely secular,  running  chiefly  in  thirds,  and  spiced  up 
with  absurd  and  unnecessary  accidentals  ;  and  this  was 
pronounced  "  simply  exquisite " !  And  the  rest  to 
match. 

Our  table  d'h6te  was  accompanied  by  a  very  charm- 
ing string  quartett.  I  subjoin  the  "  Menu  Musicale." 

Soupe  royale  :  to  potpourri  from  Donizetti. 

Salmon  trout  with  Dutch  sauce  and  potatoes  :  to  a 
lively  and  pretty  waltz. 

Roast  beef  and  lettuce  :  to  a  fine  solid  thing  of  Men- 
delssohn's. 


52  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

Calf's  head  en  tortue :  to  a  set  of  rubbishy  quadrilles. 

Mutton  and  green  peas  mashed  :   to — silence. 

Spinach  and  eggs  a  la  cr$me :  to  Gounod's  Berceuse. 

Chicken  and  salad  :  to  a  plaintive  and  sweet  violin 
air. 

Lemon  pudding  :  to  Soldier's  March  in  Faust. 

Gateau  Pithiviers  and  compete  de  pommes :  to  a  waltz 
by  Strauss. 

Dessert :  to  another  waltz  by  Strauss. 

We  had  a  hot  walk  above  the  town,  and  a  lovely  soft 
view  of  the  lake.  Then  we  went  to  find  the  Lion  of 
Lucerne,  and  when  we  came  upon  it  I  stood  fascinated  ; 
not  merely  with  the  wonderful  sculpture,  but  with  the 
perfect  effect  of  the  whole  thing.  You  come  suddenly 
from  the  glare  above,  or  the  clatter  of  the  road  below, 
into  a  deep  quiet  nook,  shut  in  by  large  shady  trees  with 
a  wide  opening  in  their  foliage  through  which  the  after- 
noon sun  falls  upon  the  lion  cut  in  the  living  rock. 
Close  below  is  a  dark  pool  in  which  it  is  reflected  beau- 
tifully. The  grey  rock  rises  perpendicularly  some  little 
height  above,  and  ends  in  a  crown  of  acacias  and  droop- 
ing bushes  and  creepers. 

A  photograph  of  the  lion  gives  no  idea  at  all  of  the 
sentiment  of  the  place,  which  is  sacred  and  still,  and  al- 
most solemnly  beautiful.  It  is  a  memorial  of  Swiss 
fidelity,  and  a  worthy  one. 

June  27.     SUNDAY  AT  LUCERNE. 

The  English  chaplain  proved  a  great  stick,  or  rather 
&  little  stick,  so  in  the  evening  we  went  to  the  Scotch 
service  in  a  Roman  Catholic  church.  We  had  a  nice 


LUCERNE  TO  THE  RIGI.  53 

sermon  on  John  xiv.  27,  and  the  simple,  full  evangelical 
truth  we  heard  contrasted  strangely  with  a  great  gold- 
lettered  shield  above  the  altar  ("J?i/f,  Maria,  hit/!"} 
(Help,  Mary,  help !) 

The  cathedral  bells  here  are  grand,  filling  the  air  with 
confused  thundering  resonance,  massive  and  almost 
awful,  yet  magnificently  beautiful ;  a  fit  accompaniment 
to  the  majesty  of  snow  mountains,  in  presence  of  which 
any  other  sounds  of  human  production  would  be  puny 
and  impertinent 

One  part  of  the  Lucerne  cemetery  was  most  touching, 
it  was  set  aside  for  the  little  children.  Row  after  row 
of  tiny  graves,  with  loving  sorrowing  inscriptions,  some 
with  little  white  marble  crosses  simply  twined  with  ivy, 
all  with  carefully  tended  flowers  and  shrubs  proportioned 
to  the  size  of  the  little  graves. 

June  28.     LUCERNE  TO  THE  RIGI. 

What  could  promise  better  ?  All  the  natives  prophesy- 
ing settled  fine  weather  and  a  regular  sunrise  glow  over 
mountains  and  lake,  moreover  the  little  cloud  upon 
Pilatus  which  is  supposed  to  make  all  safe ! 

We  had  a  pleasant  hour's  sail  to  Kussnacht,  and  struck 
np  with  a  clever  and  amusing  man,  a  friend  of  Prof. 
Tyndall's,  who  travels  with  his  eyes  open  as  to  physical 
science,  and  gave  us  a  good  deal  of  desultory  but  inter- 
esting information  and  observation  in  that  line.  The  ride 
up  was  very  pleasant,  with  a  grandly  widening  horizon 
with  occasional  fine  views  of  the  picturesque  outline  of 
Pilatus.  On  this  (north)  side  of  the  Rigi,  we  see  several 
lakes,  especially  Zug,  blue  as  a  harebell.  For  the  last 
twenty  minutes  we  change  sides,  and  have  the  south 


54  S WISS  LE  TTERS. 

view.  The  panorama  from  the  very  top  is  immense,  but 
I  do  not  count  it  among  the  impressions  of  my  life  ; 
however,  our  afternoon  was  delightful,  strolling  at  leisure 
all  about  the  top,  gathering  flowers  and  enjoying  the 
views  and  the  air.  Heavy  clouds  hung  over  the  distant 
mountains,  but  the  sun  was  bright,  and  the  general  haze 
hardly  made  it  less  beautiful.  Towards  seven  P.M. 
every  one  began  to  move  towards  the  top,  probably 
about  two  hundred  people.  Then  came  an  excitement 
of  hopes  and  fears  for  the  sunset  ;  would  it  clear,  would 
the  clouds  rise,  should  we  see  the  afterglow  ?  No  !  The 
sun  went  down  into  a  bank  of  clouds,  and  the  Bernese 
Oberland  did  not  reveal  itself.  I  stayed  a  long  while 
after,  part  of  the  time  alone.  Suddenly  a  cloud  rushed 
up  from  nowhere  and  hid  everything  ;  in  a  few  minutes 
it  was  gone  again  like  a  grey  spirit,  leaving  no  trace  or 
trail,  gone  nowhere  !  Tremulous  lightning  was  playing  in 
a  far-off  low  cloud  towards  Zurich,  and  once  a  quiver  of 
light  over  the  Alps  gave  hopes  of  a  display  ;  but  all 
gradually  calmed  and  darkened  away. 

June  29.     RIGI  KULM  TO  LUCERNE. 

At  3.30  A.M.  a  queer  horn,  woefully  out  of  tune,  played 
up  and  down  the  stairs  and  passages.  We  had  arranged 
everything  overnight,  to  save  every  possible  minute  in 
the  morning,  and  so  were  almost  the  first  on  the  top, 
looking  down  upon  an  arctic  sea,  white  downy  undula- 
tions of  cloud  about  two  hundred  feet  below  us,  cover- 
ing hills  and  lakes  and  plains  in  one  billowy  sea,  out  of 
which  rose  a  few  rocky  islands,  of  which  the  Rigi  itself 
was  one,  and  Pilatus  the  most  noticeable.  The  Alps 


L  UCERNE  TO  AL  TDORF.  55 

bounded  it  like  a  shore,  but  hazy  and  clouded.  The 
sun  rose  from  a  cloud,  and  was  far  too  late  in  appearing 
to  effect  anything  in  the  rose-tint  line  upon  the  mountain 
coast,  but  it  did  cast  a  stream  of  faint  pink  for  a  few 
moments  upon  the  silent  polar  sea  at  our  feet.  In  the 
bedrooms  was  a  notice  to  "  Messieurs  les  voyageurs," 
praying  them  not  to  take  out  blankets  and  bedclothes 
for  the  sunrise,  which  was  not  unlikely  to  put  it  into  their 
heads.  In  spite  of  this  there  were  three  or  four  bare- 
faced blankets,  one  worn  by  a  lady.  All  the  wearers,  as 
I  expected,  spoke  the  German  tongue. 

The  beds  were  not  luxurious,  notwithstanding  spring 
mattresses  and  down  quilts,  for  the  sheets  were  cold  and 
clammy,  and  horrid  to  a  degree.  "  No  wonder,"  said 
M.  L.,  "  when  they  dry  them  in  the  clouds  ;  I  saw  them 
at  it !  "  And  when  we  passed  the  neat  little  hotel,  Rigi- 
Staffel,  at  eight  A.M.  in  a  dense  cloud,  they  were  hanging 
out  sheets  on  lines  for  the  benefit  of  the  next  comers. 
We  had  a  three  hours'  walk  down  to  Weggis  entirely 
through  cloud,  with  a  chaise  a  porteur  between  us.  Yet 
there  was  the  lake  below  and  mountains  before  us,  and 
all  sorts  of  beauty  around  us.  Only  we  could  not  see  ! 

June  30.  LUCERNE  TO  ALTDORF. 

A  very  threatening  morning,  which  gradually  devel- 
oped into  a  tolerable  day,  with  pretty  gleams  on  the 
shores  of  the  lake  ;  the  higher  summits  were  invisible. 
We  walked  through  the  two  covered  bridges,  which  have 
paintings  in  the  roof  of  scenes  from  Swiss  history,  and 
then  took  the  9.40  steamer. 

It  is  a  very  lovely  three  hours'  sail  by  Brunnen,  the 


56  SWISS  LETTERS. 

Griitli  meadow,  and  Tell's  Chapel  to  Fluellen  ;  then  we 
drove  two  miles  to  Altdorf,  and  saw  the  fountains  where 
Tell  and  his  child  stood,  and  went  to  the  entrance  ot 
the  St.  Gotthard  pass,  returning  to  Lucerne  by  the  same 
route  ;  but  I  have  not  time  for  detailed  description.  I 
had  my  little  "  Wilhelm  Tell,"  and  read  a  few  scenes, 
especially  the  Griitli  one ;  but  actually  found  it  too  ex- 
citing, and  was  obliged  to  give  it  up.  I  had  no  idea 
before  what  power  that  sort  of  poetry  possesses. 

July  i.     LUCERNE  TO  LANGNAU. 

A  little  sunshine  early  in  the  morning  and  evening, 
but  otherwise  gloomy  and  grey.  We  drove  nearly  forty 
miles  through  the  Emmenthal,  said  to  be  the  most  fertile 
part  of  Switzerland,  a  very  pretty  country,  but  nothing 
distinctively  Swiss  except  the  houses  with  their  enor- 
mously overhanging  roofs  and  curious  wooden  coat-of- 
mail  walls,  little  bits  of  wood  nailed  over  each  other 
with  rounded  ends.  This  is  an  unusual  cross  country 
route,  and  the  Hotel  Emmenthal  was  in  striking  contrast 
to  the  palace  we  left  at  Lucerne.  The  waitress  looked 
amazed  when  we  asked  for  extra  spoons  to  attack  our 
cupless  eggs,  and  returned  with  one  spoon  for  all  of  us  ! 
I  like  an  out-of-the-way  place,  and  specially  rejoice  in 
not  having  to  dress  up  for  the  evening.  The  Schweit- 
zer Hof  was  too  grand  for  me,  and  where  there  are  so 
very  many  people  one  is  far  more  isolated  ;  moreover 
there  was  a  tantalizingly  good  piano  in  a  splendid 
saloon  with  just  the  right  resonance,  but  it  was  too  much 
even  for  my  audacity  to  sit  down  to  it,  before  fifty  peo- 
ple at  least. 


LANGNAU  TO  FRIBOURG.  57 

July  2.    LANGNAU  TO  FRIBOURG. 

A  journey  by  rail,  not  specially  interesting ;  and 
being  cloudy,  we  could  not  see  the  Oberland  as  we 
ought  to  have  done. 

A  very  enthusiastic  Swiss  lady  (an  acquaintance  of 
the  Malans)  raved  about  her  Swiss  mountains  most 
charmingly.  I  like  to  find  the  Swiss  appreciating  their 
privileges.  Our  guard  from  Langnau  to  Berne  appeared 
also  quite  alive  to  the  beauties  of  nature.  He  canae 
into  the  carriage  on  the  way,  and  held  up  an  awfully 
cut  thumb,  appealing  to  me  for  the  chance  of  getting 
doctored.  He  had  just  had  an  accident  with  the  brake  ; 
luckily  I  had  a  sponge  and  rag  at  hand,  and  made  a  tidy 
job  of  it  for  him.  He  was  very  grateful,  and  kept  com- 
ing to  us  all  the  rest  of  the  way  to  point  out  views  and 
any  places  of  interest.  At  Fribourg  we  had  a  fine  even- 
ing, and  a  curious  view  of  the  deep  gorge  containing 
the  old  town,  spanned  by  two  long  suspension  bridges. 
These  vibrate  even  to  the  tread,  and  a  passing  vehicle 
makes  them  almost  swing. 

A  little  before  eight  P.M.  we  went  to  the  cathedral. 
M.  had  brought  papa's  "  Forty  Specimens  of  the  Grand 
Chant,"  to  give  to  the  organist.  Two  years  ago,  when 
papa  was  here,  he  sent  up  his  "  Morning  and  Evening 
Hymn  "  (the  one  which  is  played  backwards  or  forwards, 
and  turns  upside  down)  to  M.  Vogt,  who  introduced  it 
forthwith  into  his  extemporizations,  and  rendered  it 
very  appreciatively.  So  having  received  the  little  book 
which  M.  gave  the  verger  for  him,  he  very  politely  came 
to  us  and  thanked  M.  for  it.  He  looks  about  sixty,  is 
short  and  stout,  with  a  remarkable  forehead  and  keen 


58  'S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

and  full  dark  eyes.  I  asked  him  what  he  was  going  to 
play.  He  said  :  "  First  something  from  Mendelssohn, 
then  a  toccata  of  Bach's  ;  after  that,"  he  added,  with 
a  look  of  scorn  and  wave  of  his  hand,  "  something, 
more  for  the  public  "  (Etwas,  mehr  fur  das  Publikum  /) 
Mendelssohn  was  a  strange  plaintive  minor  piece,  a 
wailing  of  voices  far  and  near,  very  striking.  Bach 
did  not  come  next,  but  a  soft  piece,  I  think  extempore. 
Then  came  the  Bach,  unmistakably  grand  and  masterly ; 
and  Vogt  played  it  as  if  he  revelled  in  it,  as  if  he  mas- 
tered it  and  it  mastered  him,  which  is  a  necessary  para- 
dox in  true  musical  rendering.  Then  came  the  sop  to 
the  "  Publikum,"  first  Rossini's  "  Prayer  of  Moses  "  and 
then  extemporization,  introducing  some  astonishing 
thunder  and  showing  off  the  ninety-seven  stops,  in- 
cluding a  good  deal  of  singing  from  the  vox  humana. 
The  power  of  the  organ  is  astonishing,  and  the  pianis- 
simo contrasts  hardly  less  so.  Still  on  the  whole  the 
Lucerne  organ  performance  does  not  seem  so  very  far 
behind,  especially  in  the  more  perfect  illusion  of  the 
vox  humana,  and  in  its  more  complete  and  natural 
thunderstorm.  On  these  points  we  gave  the  palm  un- 
hesitatingly to  Lucerne.  There  the  thunderstorm  was 
almost  real,  first  the  far-off  growl  among  the  mountains, 
then  the  gradual  approach,  the  moaning  gusts  of  wind, 
the  nearer  rumble,  the  distant  echo,  then  the  sudden 
awful  crash  overhead,  and  the  burst  of  rain,  suddenly 
ceasing  again  ;  then,  as  the  peals  receded,  a  most  per- 
fect quartett  was  heard  singing  "  Hanover,"  beautifully 
harmonized  and  in  perfect  chorale  time,  one  could 
hardly  divest  oneself  of  the  idea  that  it  was  really  a 
Yocal  quartett,  only  just  too  far  off  to  catch  the  words, 


LA  NGN  A  U  TO  FRIBOURG.  59 

which  must  be  Psalm  civ.,  "  My  soul  praise  the  Lord." 
As  one  listened  the  voices  came  a  little  nearer,  the  thun- 
der died  away  into  the  faintest  peals,  seeming  to  come 
from  behind  the  mountains,  the  wail  of  the  wind  ceased 
altogether,  the  voices  died  into  a  sweet  lovely  close,  and 
then  a  most  exquisite  flute  stop  predominated  in  a  con- 
cluding symphony  of  perfectly  enchanting  sweetness. 
We  had  nothing  to  compare  with  this  at  Fribourg  ;.  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  we  had  nothing  at  Lucerne  to  com- 
pare with  the  Bach  toccata,  either  as  to  organ  or  or- 
ganist. 

One  never  gets  perfection,  or  if  one  approaches  it,  it 
vanishes  ;  and  so  here  :  we  were  rejoicing  in  the  dream- 
like, ideal  effect  of  darkness  falling  upon  the  cathedral 
while  the  music  was  going  on,  shadows  growing  deeper, 
roof  and  aisle  darkening  into  mysterious  grand  gloom, 
no  light  but  a  faint  paleness  through  the  tracery  of  the 
windows,  one  tiny  lamp  like  a  star  near  the  altar,  and  a 
sort  of  veiled  glimmer  from  the  organ-loft  just  quiver- 
ing up  to  the  great  pipes  and  suggesting  a  hidden  source 
of  life  and  power  somewhere  among  them  ;  it  was  pre- 
cisely what  one  imagined  as  the  right  scene  for  such 
sounds  —  when  up  stalks  an  odious  old  verger,  with 
creaking  shoes  and  a  horrid  flaring  lamp,  and  lights  two 
vile  great  candles,  one  on  the  pillar  just  over  our  heads 
and  the  other  just  opposite,  right  in  our  eyes !  Such  is 
life.* 


*  This  was  poor  old  Vogt's  very  last  thunderstorm.  A  few 
days  after  we  heard  of  a  grand  musical  funeral  service  for  the 
organist  of  Fribourg.  We  heard  him  on  Friday  evening,  July 
2  ;  on  Saturdays  there  is  not  any  performance  ;  on  Sunday  he 
played  the  usual  services  in  his  usual  health  ;  on  Monday  he 
died  suddenly. 


60  SWISS  LETTERS. 

July  3.     FRIBOURG  TO  VEVEY. 

Heavy  rain  and  fog  all  day,  through  which  we  went 
by  rail  to  Lausanne,  imagining  the  Jura  to  the  north, 
and  Alps  to  the  south,  and  the  Lake  of  Geneva  where 
the  fog  hung  thickest,  excellent  practice  for  the  imagi- 
native faculty!  At  Lausanne  we  drove  to  the  cathedral, 
a  plain,  awkward  affair,  but  said  to  be  the  finest  in 
Switzerland.  (The  Swiss  have  natural  temples,  and 
have  troubled  themselves  little  about  architectural 
beauty  in  contrast  with  the  Belgians,  who  have  cathe- 
drals instead  of  mountains).  It  is  fitted  up  with  plain 
wooden  benches,  and  must  accommodate  a  large  con- 
gregation. The  sacristan  said  the  attendance  entirely 
depended  on  the  preacher.  There  are  five  pasteurs, 
who  preach  in  turn  at  this  and  the  other  churches,  but 
there  is  only  one  service,  and  that  at  nine  A.M.  We 
came  on  to  Vevey  to  the  Hotel  Monnet,  which  seems 
to  combine  the  attractions  of  our  previous  favourites  ; 
and,  as  it  left  off  raining  for  an  hour,  we  had  a  little 
walk  by  the  lake,  and  concluded  it  must  be  a  perfectly 
delicious  place  in  anything  like  ordinary  weather. 

July  4.     SUNDAY  AT  VEVEY. 

To  Swiss  (French)  service  at  9.30  with  M.  The 
church  commands  a  splendid  view.  The  service  com- 
menced with  the  commandments  read  by  a  deacon  or 
elder  from  the  pulpit,  followed  by  the  gospel  epitome 
of  the  two  tables,  Matthew  xxii.  27-40.  Then  the 
pasteur  went  up  and  read  a  long  string  of  banns,  each 
written  on  a  separate  sheet,  which  he  deliberately  un- 
folded and  folded  again  into  envelopes,  with  all  their 


VEVEY   TO  MONTREUX  AND  GLION.  61 

family  history  on  each  side.  No  more  Scripture  was 
read  except  the  text,  "  Thou  art  the  man ! "  and  the 
sermon  was  like  most  foreign  ones,  rather  an  orat-ion 
than  on  exposition.  The  singing  was  in  the  old  Scotch 
fashion,  a  precentor  standing  up  in  a  little  box  under 
the  pulpit,  and  roaring  the  tune  just  half  a  note  ahead 
of  the  congregation.  The  tunes  themselves  were  prob- 
ably good  old  Genevan  ones,  very  old  church  psalmody 
in  style.  The  afternoon  English  service  was  quick  and 
quiet ;  not  remarkable. 

Though  a  lovely  day,  the  mountains  were  clouded, 
and  the  Dent  du  Midi  never  appeared  till  nearly  sunset, 
and  then  the  St.  Bernard  and  Sugar  Loaf  appeared  and 
vanished.  Hotel  Monnet  has  a  flat  roof  with  seats  ;  it 
is  five  stories  high,  so  no  one  seems  to  think  it  worth 
while  to  mount.  Tant  mieux  pour  mot  f  It  is  delight- 
ful, and  I  spent  most  of  my  Sunday  evening  alone  on  it. 

July  5.     VEVEY  TO  MONTREUX  AND  GLION. 

A  splendid  morning,  and  the  white  clouds  so  bright 
and  soft  that  one  would  hardly  quarrel  with  them  for 
veiling  the  mountains,  though  as  H.  C.  said,  "  they  were 
obstinate."  We  took  a  boat  to  Clarens,  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  over  the  pearly  blue  water,  then  walked  up  to 
the  cemetery,  for  the  view.  Here  we  remarked,  as  at 
Lucerne  and  other  places,  the  very  large  proportion  of 
comparatively  young  persons,  more  than  fifty  years 
being  quite  exceptional.  Among  the  English  and  Rus- 
sian graves  the  ages  were  still  lower,  and  told  of  con- 
sumption ;  so  many  between  17  and  25,  who  probably 
came  here  for  the  mild  winter  and  never  saw  another 
summer.  From  Clarens  a  lovely  road  took  us  to  Mon- 


62  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

treux,  where  we  again  made  for  the  fine  view  from  the 
churchyard.  After  a  rest  and  some  cherries,  we 
mounted  the  hill  to  Glion,  a  little  village  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  higher,  and  the  view  proportionally  finer. 
We  walked  down  and  returned  to  Vevey  by  steamer. 
At  the  5.30  table  d'hdte  I  had  a  long  conversation  in 
French  with  a  Swedish  countess,  handsome,  polished, 
and  very  agreeable.  She  talked  of  Jenny  Lind  and  her 
retirement  from  the  stage  ;  and  said  it  was  thought  that 
Christine  Nilsson  might  possibly  follow  her  example. 
She  described  her  as  being  like  Jenny  in  firmness  and 
high  principle,  and  said  that  the  Parisians  thought  her 
"  trop  sage  et  serieuse,"  and  that  she  better  suited  the 
English  idiosyncrasy.  Later  in  the  evening  I  was  play- 
ing in  the  nice  little  salon  de  conversation,  when  my 
countess  came  in  and  recognized  the  "  Song  without 
Words,"  and  asked  me  for  more.  So  I  sang  "  Comfort 
ye."  "That  is  fine  music,"  she  said;  "whose  is  it?" 
I  answered  and  explained.  "  Really !  so  that  is  from 
the  '  Messiah  ' !  I  never  heard  it.  The  English  are 
passiones  for  Handel's  music,  are  they  not  ?  "  So  then 
I  played  the  overture  to  "  Samson,"  and  sang  "  Let  the 
bright  Seraphim."  She  admired  both  extremely  ;  it  was 
totally  new  to  her  ;  she  had  never  heard  Handel  before, 
and  thought  he  wrote  .chiefly  church  music  !  Yet  she 
was  thoroughly  "  up  "  in  Mendelssohn  and  Mozart,  and 
knew  all  the  operas  that  ever  were  written  apparently. 
And  never  heard  Handel ! ! 

July  6.     VEVEY  TO  ST.  GINGOLPH  AND  VILLENEUVE. 

A  spree  !     H.  C.  could  not  realize  the  fact  that  the 
opposite   shore  was  seven  miles  off,  and  its  mountains 


VEVEY  TO  ST.  GINGOLPH  AND   VILLENEUVE.  63 

eight  thousand  feet  high,  and  thought  it  would  assist  his 
realization  to  row  across.  But  M.  and  M.  L.  don't  like 
boats,  so  they  decided  to  rest  for  the  day,  while  I  had 
no  objection  to  anything,  and  volunteered  to  go  any- 
where. Our  little  boat  sported  an  American  flag,  and  a 
pretty  striped  awning,  which  we  were  glad  of  as  the  sun 
.was  hot. 

The  mountains  grew  and  grew,  and  seemed  to  get 
larger,  much  faster  than  they  got  nearer  ;  so  we  began  to 
take  in  the  idea  of  the  seven  miles  and  the  eight  thou- 
sand feet.  St.  Gingolph  is  made  no  fuss  about  in  the 
guidebooks,  and  consequently  is  not  prepared  for 
tourists  as  yet  ;  but  we  have  not  seen  many  things  more 
beautiful  than  the  Gorge  de  la  Morge  at  the  entrance  of 
which  it  lies.  Our  inquiry  for  saddle  horses,  or  mules, 
or  donkeys,  rather  astonished  the  natives  at  the  inn  ; 
but  they  were  polite,  as  all  the  Swiss  are,  and  sent  post 
haste  to  a  butcher  who  owned  one  donkey,  and  to  some- 
body else  who  was  supposed  to  have  a  horse.  The 
messengers  returned  in  a  depressed  state  of  mind  ;  the 
horse  could  not  be  found  at  all,  and  the  donkey  was 
gone  to  the  mountains.  So  we  were  obliged  to  walk, 
and  set  off  up  the  gorge  to  a  certain  village  somewhere, 
named  Novelles,  which  we  should  reach  if  we  had 
patience  and  perseverance. 

The  said  virtues  were  exercised  for  about  two  hours 
and  a  half,  and  then  were  rewarded  by  a  village  and  a 
most  welcome  auberge.  At  least  that  was  the  ultimate 
reward,  but  there  were  plenty  of  proximate  ones.  The 
valley  winds  up  between  mountains,  wooded  below,  and 
grand  precipitous  rocks  above,  snow-wreathed  and  ice- 
creviced.  The  Morge,  a  wild,  leaping,  racing  torrent, 


64  SWISS  LETTERS. 

rushes  down  to  the  lake,  forming  the  boundary  between 
Savoy  and  the  canton  de  Vaud.  The  path  was  steep 
but  very  lovely  ;  visions  of  the  lake  at  every  turn  to  the 
left,  and  visions  of  the  mighty  rocks  above  at  every  turn  to 
the  right,  both  seen  in  a  framing  of  luxuriant  foliage. 
But  it  was  dreadfully  hot,  and  no  vestige  of  human  life 
appeared  turn  after  turn. 

At  last  the  coming  event  cast  its  shadow  before  in  the 
shape  of  a  chalet,  and  some  haymakers  whom  we  hailed. 
In  their  musical-toned  civility  they  told  us  the  auberge 
was  only  ten  minutes  farther ;  and  a  good-humoured 
Savoyard  ran  up  and  told  us  he  was  the  "maitre  de 
1'auberge,"  and  encouraged  us  along,  chatting  most 
cheerily.  He  introduced  us  to  his  domains  in  great  glee 
through  a  rugged  yard,  and  up  what  looked  as  if  it  led 
to  a  henroost,  saying  "  Entrez,  mademoiselle!"  to  a 
little  dark  kitchen  with  a  pot  hanging  over  a  gipsy-like 
fire  of  sticks  on  a  great  hearthstone  ;  then  another  and 
quite  triumphant  "  Entrez  !  "  to  a  "  salon  "  beyond,  with 
three  little  tables  and  six  little  benches.  He  scampered 
about,  getting  necessaries  together,  with  the  aid  of  his 
equally  good-tempered  but  quieter  helpmeet.  First  he 
produced  a  bottle  of  Swiss  wine,  then  a  loaf  of  capital 
black  bread,  and  a  plate  with  three  funny  little  cheeses 
and  one  knife.  On  second  thoughts  he  ran  away  and 
returned  with  a  sharp-pointed  pocket-knife,  which  he 
deposited  most  engagingly  before  me.  "  Pour  vous, 
mademoiselle;  \\njoli  petit  couteau  !  "  He  offered  an 
egg;  and  while  it  was  boiling  sent  round  the  village  for 
butter,  hoping  he  could  get  some,  but  the  butter  was 
made  half  an  hour  higher  up  the  mountain.  H.  C. 
seemed  satisfied  now  that  the  eight  thousand  feet  were 


VEVEY  TO  ST.  GINGOLPH  AND   VILLENEUVE.    65 

no  myth,  for  he  "  should  have  thought  that  walking 
three  hours  straight  up  hill  we  should  have  got  to  where 
they  make  the  butter !  "  Presently  my  egg  appeared  in 
a  little  brandy  glass,  but  a  spoon  had  not  occurred  to 
him,  and  a  cupboard  had  to  be  rummaged  to  find  one. 
In  course  of  time  the  butter  arrived,  quite  superlative 
and  only  just  churned,  so  we  were  in  clover. 

I  catechized  him  next  as  to  whether  there  was  any 
mode  of  descent  other  than  our  tired  feet.  On  this  sub- 
ject he  was  sanguine  but  mysterious.  Mademoiselle 
might  trust  him,  he  would  arrange,  "  tout  irait  bien," 
only  a  little  time  was  necessary,  his  horse  was  gone  to 
pasture.  We  were  not  particular,  I  told  him,  a  hay  cart 
would  do.  He  danced  in  and  out  to  keep  us  quiet ;  it 
would  soon  be  ready,  mademoiselle  would  be  charmed, 
she  would  laugh  at  his  beautiful  new  carriage,  she  would 
remember  it,  etc.  After  one  of  these  intervals  he  ap- 
peared in  a  clean  white  shirt,  and  told  us  in  immense 
glee  that  the  horse  was  nearly  ready  except  a  little  glass 
of  wine!  He  rushed  into  a  dark  lumber  room  and 
drew  a  glass  from  a  little  cask,  then  danced  into  the 
salon  and  filled  his  mouth  with  the  remains  of  our 
bread  and  cheese,  while  his  wife  sewed  a  button  on  his 
wristband. 

Outside  the  door  stood,  or  rather  lay,  our  conveyance. 
Its  foundation  was  a  hay  sledge,  two  little  wheels  be- 
hind with  two  thick  runners,  joined  by  rough  crossbars. 
On  this  our  host  had  tied  with  ropes  an  old  wine  chest  ; 
across  it  was  a  plank,  with  a  manifest  bolster  on  it  as  a 
cushion.  Two  long  crooked  sticks  were  tied  to  the  run- 
ners for  shafts.  "  Montez,  monsieur,  we  will  go  like  the ' 
chemin  de  fer,  vous  verrez  !  "  So  in  we  got ;  the  plank 
5 


66  SWISS  LETTERS. 

and  bolster  being  wider  than  the  box,  there  was  room 
enough  to  sit,  while  our  feet  converged  to  a  focus  of 
about  twenty  inches  in  the  narrow  bottom.  He  waved 
his  cap  to  his  wife,  with  whom  he  was  evidently  on  the 
best  of  terms,  and-  set  off  full  tear,  down  hill.  It  was  no 
use  shouting  "  Doucement ! "  he  only  looked  round 
and  laughed,  and  tugged  away  at  the  shafts,  over 
boulders  and  holes,  and  swinging  round  corners  on  the 
very  edge  of  the  deep  gully,  till  really  if  we  had  not 
been  incapacitated  by  laughing  from  either  thinking  or 
doing  anything  else,  we  should  have  been  seriously 
frightened. 

On  retrospect,  I  can't  think  how  we  escaped  with 
whole  bones.  I  never  felt  anything  like  the  jolting  ; 
our  cheeks  shook  like  jelly.  H.  C.  said  it  was  complete 
electrification.  Our  "  horse  "  only  stopped  when  quite 
out  of  breath  and  steaming  with  perspiration,  eager  to 
know  how  many  minutes  he  had  been,  and  pluming 
himself  on  his  speed,  and  still  more  on  his  invention. 
He  would  have  it  patented,  and  send  it  to  the  next  Ex- 
position and  make  his  fortune,  and  so  forth,  joking  away 
his  breath  so  that  his  next  start  was  a  trifle  more  mod- 
erate. As  for  admiring  the  valle)r,  which  he  found  time 
to  do,  waving  one  hand  and  giving  an  extra  tug  with  the 
other,  "Ah  que  c'est  un  beau  pays,  mais  que  c'est  mag- 
nifique  !  ")  it  was  out  of  the  question,  all  we  could  do 
was  to  laugh  and  hold  on,  and  try  to  balance  the  ma- 
. chine. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  bottom,  just  as  we 
were  getting  used  to  the  said  balancing,  and  our  steed 
perhaps  getting  more  careless,  we  were  swung  round  a 
corner  and  over  some  unexpectedly  large  stones,  when , 


HOTEL  BYRON  TO  CHILLON  AND  BOUVERET.    67 

suddenly  we  felt  a  most  queer  giving-way,  earthquaky 
sensation,  and  roared  for  a  halt  simultaneously.  Just 
as  the  man  contrived  to  stop,  the  whole  concern  came 
bodily  to  grief,  all  to  pieces  at  once  in  a  most  suprising 
style,  cords  yielded,  shafts  broke,  nails  came  out,  and 
boards  subsided  into  one  shapeless  heap,  from  which  we 
extricated  ourselves  with  nothing  more  than  a  bruise  or 
two,  laughing  more  than  ever,  for  it  made  the  thing  so 
very  complete  to  have  such  a  proper  and  thorough 
break-down,  it  was  the  only  finishing  touch  it  wanted. 
It  was  no  use  reconstructing  the  machine,  so  H.  C.  paid 
the  man  and  wanted  to  dismiss  him  ;  he  knew  well 
enough  the  five  francs  for  which  we  agreed  before  we 
saw  the  concern  was  more  than  the  job  was  worth,  so  he 
proposed  to  go  down  to  St.  Gingolph  to  have  a  bottle  of 
wine  with  us  at  his  own  expense,  as  a  wind  up  of  ac- 
counts !  He  seemed  rather  hurt  at  his  kind  invitation 
being  declined,  but  soon  got  over  it,  and  made  his 
adieux,  begging  us  to  make  his  compliments  to  all  at 
Vevey,  and  inform  them  what  a  first-rate  carriage  would 
be  at  their  disposal  if  they  would  make  an  excursion  to 
Novelles. 

We  got  to  Vevey  just  in  time  to  cram  our  things  to- 
gether and  set  off  by  the  evening  steamer  to  Hotel 
Byron,  another  of  these  Swiss  palaces  between  Ville- 
neuve  and  Chillon. 

July  7.    HOTEL  BYRON  TO  CHILLON  AND  BOUVERET. 

Very  hot  and  very  hazy.  Walk  to  Chillon,  dungeons, 
oubliettes,  hall  of  justice,  arid  everything  a  la  carte ; 
every  one  knows  it  all.  But  no  one  told  me  one  little 
thing,  a  surprise  of  colour.  In  the  dungeons,  at  first 


68  SWISS  LETTERS. 

seemingly  quite  dark,  one's  eye  soon  accustomed  itself 
to  the  faint  light  through  the  tiny  slits  in  the  enormous 
walls,  and  then  one  perceived  a  most  singular  reflection 
from  the  blue  lake  on  the  grey  vaulting,  tremulous  and 
delicate  and  curiously  metallic,  an  effect  impossible  to 
convey  in  words. 

After  a  broiling  walk  to  the  landing  place  near 
Montreux,  we  boated  across  to  Bouveret  on  the  other 
side  of  the  lake,  crossing  the  mouth  of  the  Rhone.  Le- 
man  lies  in  azure  peace,  utterly  tranquil  and  innocent ; 
all  at  once  you  are  in  the  midst  of  a  mighty  wild  brown 
roaring  current.  The  boatmen  say,  "  Don't  be  afraid, 
only  sit  still,"  and  they  pull  with  all  their  might.  In  a 
minute  or  two  you  shoot  into  uncontaminated,  still,  blue 
water  again.  The  current  is  so  impetuous,  it  flows  thus 
unmingled  for  a  mile  and  a  half.  It  suggested  plenty 
of  analogies,  but  I  have  no  time  for  them  here.  We 
landed  and  took  a  stroll  at  Bouveret,  returning  by  boat 
to  Hotel  Byron,  landing  on  our  way  upon  the  He  de  la 
Paix,  the  "little  isle"  in  "The  Prisoner  of  Chillon." 
Three  poplars  grow  on  it ;  I  send  you  a  specimen  spray. 

July  8.     HOTEL  BYRON  TO  MARTIGNY. 

We  went  by  rail  thirteen  miles  up  the  Rhone  valley 
to  Bex,  and  I  rather  wished  George  Stephenson  had 
never  been  born  as  we  whisked  through  the  grand 
scenery  ;  however,  it  was  a  very  hazy  day,  and  perhaps 
but  for  railroads  I  should  never  have  come  to  Switzer- 
land at  all !  At  Bex  we  took  an  open  carriage,  past  St. 
Maurice  and  the  Gorge  du  Trient,  nine  miles.  The 
view  up  the  valley  must  be  magnificent,  but  the  heat 
haze  almost  hid  it ;  the  side  views  were  superb,  of  the 


MARTIGNY  TO  "TETE  NOIRE.  69 

Dent  du  Midi,  10,000  feet  high,  and  of  the  Dent  de 
Morcle,  9,000.  This  Rhone  valley,  at  least  up  to  St, 
Maurice,  is  the  grandest  thing  we  have  seen,  next  to  my 
glorious  Jungfrau. 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  up  the  Gorge  du  Trient,  at 
each  turn  different  and  wonderful.  The  sun  never  pene- 
trates some  parts,  and  only  touches  any  for  about  an 
hour.  We  came,  said  the  guide,  "juste  au  bon  moment," 
sunshine  bringing  out  the  strange  curves  and  angles  in 
strong  relief,  and  contrasting  the  exquisitely  brilliant 
green  of  the  ferns  and  bushes  wherever  they  could  cling, 
with  the  depth  of  shade  of  the  caving  rock,  and  the  cold 
grey  rushing  torrent  of  the  Trient.  This  gorge  is  nine 
miles  long,  but  only  passable  by  gallery  for  half  a  mile. 
After  a  scramble  on  the  rocks  outside,  and  a  rest  in 
cooler  air  above,  we  drove  to  Martingy. 

July  9.     MARTINGY  TO  HALF  WAY  THROUGH  TETE 
NOIRE. 

Hot  and  hazy  again  ;  but  we  discovered  that  the  haze 
belonged  to  the  valleys,  and  the  higher  we  rose  the 
clearer  it  became.  We  took  mules,  and  had  a  three 
hours'  ascent  to  Col  de  Trient ;  then  one  hour's  descent 
to  Tete  Noire,  where  we  dined  ;  then  another  hour's  de- 
scent to  the  Hotel  des  Cascades,  a  little  white  inn  facing  a 
waterfall  down  a  wild  rocky  gorge,  close  to  the  junction 
of  two  wild  streams.  This  glacier  water  is  a  peculiar 
colour,  which  no  word  describes  so  well  as  Job  vi.  15, 
1 6  :  "  The  stream  of  brooks  which  are  blackish  by  reason 
of  the  ice,  and  wherein  the  snow  is  hid."  You  never 
see  the  same  "  blackish  "  look  in  any  other  water  but 
these  glacier  streams ;  and  "  by  reason  of  the  ice  where- 


70  SWISS  LETTERS. 

in  the  snow  is  hid  "  is  a  wonderful  touch  of  true  and 
poetical  description. 

M.  and  I  both  heard  the  curious  latent  music  of  the 
water  when  our  ear  was  pressed  on  the  pillow,  "just 
like  a  piano,"  she  said,  and  truly !  It  really  was  like  a 
distant  piano  playing  a  monotonous  yet  sweet  melody, 
always  nearly  but  never  quite  the  same  key  of  G,  and 
harmony  merely  tonic  and  dominant  in  turn,  a  move  of 
the  head  occasionally  producing  the  subdominant ! 

July  10.     TETE  NOIRE,  COL  DE  BALM,  CH AMOUNT. 

A  day  after  my  own  heart!  Breakfast  at  six,  and 
start  on  foot  at  half-past.  A  lovely  fresh  morning, 
making  the  rather  sombre  valley  bright  and  beautiful. 
After  twenty  minutes'  walk  the  road  took  a  slight  turn. 

"  There  is  Mont  Blanc  !  "  shouted  M.  L.,  pointing  to 
a  little  shoulder  of  white  peering  between  the  near  hills 
and  the  Aiguilles  Rouges,  which  closed  the  view  ahead. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  we  exclaimed,  but  we  hoped  we  were 
wrong. 

"  It  is,"  she  persisted ;  "  clouds  can't  deceive  me  ;  that's 
Mont  Blanc.  I  know  it !  " 

A  few  yards  farther  settled  the  question  ;  in  the 
opening  shone  the  monarch  himself,  up  to  his  very 
crown,  distant  but  majestic,  clear  and  dazzling.  And  I 
knew  that  my  allegiance  must  be  transferred  from  the 
Jungfrau,  that  henceforth  she  was  only  second.  Every 
half  mile  gave  us  more  of  the  snow  glories  for  which  I 
have  been  absolutely  hungering,  more  aiguilles,  more 
shining  whiteness.  Mountains,  real  ones,  are  more  to 
me  than  any  other  created  thing ;  the  gentle  loveliness 
of  lake  scenery  or  forest,  or  pastoral  picturesqueness,  is 


TETE  NOIRE,  COL  DE  BALM,  CHAMOUNI.       71 

delightful ;  but  nothing  sends  the  thrill  all  through  one's 
very  soul  that  these  mountains  do.  It  is  just  the  differ- 
ence between  the  Harmonious  Blacksmith  on  a  piano, 
and  the  Hallelujah  Chorus  from  a  grand  orchestra.  One 
day  among  the  mountains  is  worth  many  of  other  beau- 
tiful scenery  ;  I  say  among  advisedly,  for  a  far-off  view 
is  not  the  same  thing  ;  it  is  the  difference  between  an- 
ticipation and  possession,  future  and  present.  However 
beautiful  a  distant  view  may  be,  one  wants  to  be  nearer, 
to  be  there.  It  would  be  well  if  all  instinct  of  anticipa- 
tion were  as  true  and  as  truly  to  be  satisfied  as  this ! 

A  rapid  descent  fronting 'the  glacier  of  Argentiere 
brought  us  to  the  village  of  St.  Pierre  at  9.30,  after  a 
walk  of  seven  miles  and  a  half  with  occasional  rests. 

After  a  decidedly  severe  dejeuner  we  set  off  on  mules 
to  the  Col  de  Balm,  which  is  just  seven  thousand  feet 
high.  Though  clouds  were  thick  on  the  mountains,  and 
a  haze  filled  the  valley,  the  view  toward  Chamouni  was 
magnificent.  I  might  as  well  have  sat  backwards  at 
once,  for  my  head  felt  nearly  wrenched  off  with  turning 
it  behind.  About  half  way  up  we  had  perhaps  the 
grandest  idea  of  Mont  Blanc,  towering  with  an  incon- 
ceivably majestic  sweep  of  outline  above  everything  else. 

From  the  top  of  the  Col  de  Balm,  which  is  a.  pass  over 
the  lowest  dip  of  the  great  mountain  wall,  we  ought  to 
have  seen  the  Rhone  valley  and  away  to  the  Great  St. 
Bernard  ;  but  on  that  side  we  only  looked  down  and 
away  into  mist.  After  refreshing  ourselves  at  the  chalet, 
we  wandered  to  some  great  snow  patches  just  for  the 
pleasure  of  walking  into  it  on  the  loth  of  July.  M. 
said  she  should  "  eat  some  snow  and  then  go  to  sleep  on 
the  gentianellas,"  which  I  literally  did.  The  sun  was 


72  S  WISS  LE  T  TERS. 

blazingly  hot,  though  the  air  was  cool,  and  our  cloaks 
were  only  needed  for  pillows. 

After  our  rest  H.  C.,  M.  L.,  and  I  went  up  a  summit 
above  the  Col  de  Balm,  which  commands  one  of  the 
most  sublime  and  perfect  panoramas  in  the  world  I 
should  think.  Here  the  grandest  mountains  in  Europe 
are  pressing  close  around  you,  a  perfect  abyss  into  the 
Tete  Noire  on  one  side,  the  perfectly  graceful  sweep  of 
the  valley  of  Chamouni  on  the  other,  aiguilles  that  defy 
the  Alpine  Club,  glaciers  between  and  below  them,  link- 
ing the  winter  above  with  the  summer  below,  all  one  ever 
dreamt  of  Alpine  splendours  crowded  into  one  scene  and 
oneself  in  the  very  centre  of  it,  far  above  the  waterfalls 
and  the  noisy  torrents,  far  away  from  the  chatter  and 
clatter  of  tourists  ;  what  if  one  did  see  it  at  some  disad- 
vantage as  to  the  list  of  peaks  which  ought  to  be  visible  ? 
even  with  the  cloud  veil  on  her  forehead,  it  was  the  most 
glorious  revelation  of  Nature  I  have  ever  seen.  And 
what  was  our  seat  here,  up  above  more  snow  than  we 
saw  all  last  winter?  A  regular  carpet  of  flowers,  chiefly 
forget-me-nots,  gentianellas,  brilliant  potentillas,  violets, 
pansies,  and  daisies,  and  many  lovely  flowers  I  did  not 
know.  The  grasses  too  were  various  and  pretty.  What 
an  addition  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  great  the  small  can 
be  !  And  there  I  wrote  these  lines  : 

SUNSHINE  and  silence  on  the  Col  de  Balm  ! 
I  stood  above  the  mists,  above  the  rush 
Of  all  the  torrents,  when  one  marvellous  hush 
Filled  God's  great  mountain  temple,  vast  and  calm, 
With  hallelujah  light,  a  seen  but  silent  psalm. 

Crossed  with  one  discord,  only  one.     For  love 

Cried  out  and  would  be  heard  :  "  If  ye  were  here, 
O  friends,  so  far  away  and  yet  so  near, 


TETE  NOIRE,  COL  DE  BALM,  CH A  MO  UNI.       73 

Then  were  the  anthem  perfect."     And  the  cry 
Threaded  the  concords  of  that  Alpine  harmony. 

Not  vain  the  same  fond  cry,  if  first  I  stand 
Upon  the  mountain  of  our  God,  and  long 
Even  in  the  glory,  and  with  His  new  song 
Upon  my  lips,  that  you  should  come  and  share 
The  bliss  of  heaven,  imperfect  still  till  all  are  there. 

Dear  ones  !  shall  it  be  mine  to  watch  you  come 
Up  from  the  shadow,  and  the  valley  mist, 
To  tread  the  jacinth  and  amethyst, 
To  rest  and  sing  upon  the  stormless  height, 
In  the  deep  calm  of  love  and  everlasting  light  ? 

It  seemed  a  pity  to  lose  the  chance  of  a  sunset  behind, 
but  it  would  not  do  to  be  benighted  there  and  on  Satur- 
day evening  too,  so  we  rode  quickly  down  *  and  took  a 
carriage  at  Argentiere  for  Chamouni,  which  we  reached 
when  the  twilight  was  deepening  into  dark.  From  our 
window  in  the  Hotel  de  Londres  we  looked  out  and  saw 


*  As  we  came  down  the  Col  de  Balm  we  heard  a  chorus  of  cow 
bells  rising  from  the  valley.  Our  guide  said  there  were  two  hun- 
dred cows  in  the  invisible  herd,  all  wearing  bells.  The  confused, 
pleasant,  quick  sound  was  very  novel  ;  and  though  the  bells  are 
various  in  pitch,  all  melted  into  one  general  musical  effect,  with- 
out any  clashing  of  tones,  just  as  the  song  of  many  birds  does  : 

11  The  tintinnabulation  that  so  musically  swells 
From  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells  !  " 

—Edgar  Allan  Foe. 

A  little  farther  on  we  neared  a  tiny  hamlet,  and  up  above  us 
came  a  wonderful  tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle.  Presently  a  goat  peered 
over  the  edge  of  a  ridge  and  ran  down  followed  by  one  hundred 
and  twelve  companions  ;  they  were  not  the  least  timid,  and 
passed  close  to  us,  each  one  looking  curiously  at  us,  as  if  aware 
we  were  not  ' '  du  pays"  They  were  going  home,  and  knew  the 
way  quite  well. 


74  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

the  mountains  marvellously  beautiful  with  just  the  same 
sort  of  pale  solemn  light  we  saw  on  the  Jungfrau  at 
night.  It  was  quite  dark  below  except  for  the  lights  in 
the  village  ;  but  up  above  against  the  dark  sky,  Mont 
Blanc,  the  Dome  du  Goute"  and  the  Aiguille  du  Midi 
seemed  robed  in  that  singular  holiness  of  light,  utterly 
calm  and  pure,  entirely  celestial,  which  to  both  of  us  is 
more  than  rose  tints  and  gold  ;  there  is  nothing  like  it 
except  the  smile  of  holy  peace  on  the  face  of  one  asleep 
in  Jesus.  Presently  we  saw  a  little  twinkling  on  the 
edge  of  the  glacier,  and  wondered  what  it  was.  On 
Monday  we  knew  more  about  it.  While  we  watched  it, 
another  little  light,  but  purer  and  clearer,  rose  into  the 
intense  depth  of  blue  between  the  Aiguille  du  Midi  and* 
the  Rochers  Rouges.  You  will  know  how  a  star  can 
rise  when  you  have  seen  it  on  a  clear  night,  when  a  snow 
mountain  seems  its  stepping  stone  to  its  place  in  the 
sky. 

July  ii.     SUNDAY  AT  CHAMOUNI. 

M.  L.'s  birthday,  which  she  began  by  seeing  Mont 
Blanc  crested  with  sunlight  before  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  The  services  in  the  little  English  church 
were  most  refreshing.  The  clergyman,  Mr.  Cripps,  of 
Nottingham,  led  the  chanting  and  hymns  without 
accompaniment,  and  every  one  seemed  to  join  heartily, 
with  an  unusual  proportion  of  men's  voices.  Both 
tunes  and  chants  were  judicious,  such  as  all  must  know 
and  all  could  sing.  The  morning  sermon  was  on  Isaiah 
xxxiii.  17:  "Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  in  His 
beauty,  they  shall  behold  the  land  that  is  very  far  off." 
The  evening  from  Revelation  iii.  20 :  "  Behold,  I  stand," 


PIERRE  POINTUE  AND  PIERRE  ^  L'ECHELLE.   75 

etc.  Both  were  extremely  interesting  and  useful,  with 
loving  encouragement  and  earnest  warning,  such  as  one 
does  not  hear  from  every  pulpit.  The  evening  was 
radiant  in  rose  tints,  and  when  they  had  faded  away 
we  came  in  from  the  balcony  and  sang  hymns  with  the 
clergyman  and  others. 

July  12.     PIERRE  POINTUE  AND  PIERRE  A 
L'ECHELLE. 

A  real  fine  clear  day  at  last !  We  inquired  about  the 
twinkle  on  the  mountain,  and  found  it  was  the  lamp  at 
the  little  auberge  at  Pierre  Pointue,  the  first  stage  up 
Mont  Blanc ;  this  was  attractive,  so  we  went.  A 
remarkably  steep  ride  through  the  forest,  and  then  far 
up  above  it,  brought  us  to  Pierre  Pointue  in  three  hours. 
H.  C.'s  mules  always  go,  though  he  does  not  appear  to 
use  any  extra  means,  so  he  was  there  lohg  before. 
M.  L.  and  I  have  taken  pains  to  'acquire  the  mule 
language  and  its  correct  intonation  ;  but  all  our  Hu ! 
Allez!  Hupp!  Carabi !  Hui,  hui!  Allons!  Arrrdi !  is 
lost  on  them,  and  they  pursue  the  even  tenour  of  their 
way.  Pierre  Pointue  commands  a  fine  view  of  the 
Glacier  des  Bossons  (a  very  fine  one)  and  the  snowy 
shoulder  of  Mont  Blanc.  We  dismounted,  and  I  had 
a  real  bona  fide  scramble  an  hour  and  a  half  higher  up 
with  H.  C.  and  M.  L.  across  the  ends  of  snowdrifts,  and 
right  through  torrents,  and  up  rocks  and  places  you 
would  not  think  feasible  anywhere  but  in  Switzerland. 
We  rested  and  lunched  with  immense  satisfaction  on 
the  rock  called  Pierre  a  1'Echelle  because  the  ladders 
for  the  ascent  of  Mont  Blanc  used  to  be  kept  there  be- 
fore the  Grands  Mulcts  were  set  up  with  a  hut.  We 


76  SWISS  LETTERS. 

were  now  about  eight  thousand  six  hundred  feet  high, 
and  I  at  least  was  proportionately  happy.  It  was 
marvellous  how  far  up  the  lovely  rhododendrons  grow, 
but  the  forget-me-nots  were  almost  as  daring,  and  the 
Alpine  ranunculus  grew  higher  still,  the  special  glacier 
flower,  said  Joseph  Devouassoud.  It  was  a  wild  scene, 
the  grim  Rochers  Rouges  and  Aiguille  du  Midi  just 
above,  the  whole  Dome  du  Goute  shining  close  beyond 
the  great  glacier,  an  awful  slope  of  snow  and  stones 
below  us,  and  ever  so  deep  down  the  Chamouni  valley, 
which  we  must  have  seen  as  the  birds  see  it.*  On  our 
way  down  our  youngest  guide,  Aristide  Couttet,  proved 
himself  a  true  boy  in  spite  of  his  learned  name,  shorten- 
ing his  route  by  sliding  down  all  the  snow  slopes  any- 
where near  the  line  of  march  ;  it  looked  such  fun  I 
envied  him  ;  but  though  I  "  take  kindly "  to  mount- 
aineering, I  am  not  advanced  enough  for  snow  slopes. 
We  walked  nearly  all  the  way  down  from  Pierre  Pointue, 
as  it  was  so  steep  for  riding,  visiting  the  Cascade  du 
Dard  on  the  way.  So  we  really  have  been  more  than 
half  way  (in  height)  up  Mont  Blanc,  and  would  have 
gone  to  the  Grands  Mulcts  had  we  been  prepared  for  it. 


*  If  there  were  any  birds  to  see  it !  But  there  is  a  curious 
paucity  of  them  in  Switzerland.  We  hardly  ever  saw  or  heard 
a  bird  of  any  kind.  If  we  did,  it  was  quite  a  thing  to  be 
remarked  upon  to  each  other.  H.  C.  was  always  on  the  look- 
out, he  seemed  to  miss  the  birds  and  living  creatures  generally. 
Nature  has  devoted  herself  to  the  inanimate  instead  of  to  the 
animate  ;  one  never  sees  a  wild  living  thing  except  insects, 
which  quite  make  up  as  regards  numbers  and  beauty  ;  no  game, 
no  rabbits,  nothing  ! 


LA  FLEGERE.  77 

July  13.     LA  FL£G£RE. 

It  was  intensely  hot,  so  we  had  a  quiet  morning  for 
writing  and  resting.  La  Fle'gere  was  selected  for  a  nice 
little  afternoon  excursion,  only  five  and  a  half  hours, 
starting  at  3.30.  See  how  we  have  improved ! 
This  is  an  hour  more  than  our  first  mountain  ride  to 
Miirren,  and  that  we  thought  a  very  trying  day's  work. 
The  ascent  is  on  the  opposite  side  to  Mont  Blanc,  and 
the  whole  chain  should  be  visible,  but  unfortunately  it 
clouded  over  long  before  we  reached  La  Flegere,  and 
we  could  only  imagine  how  grand  the  scene  would  have 
been  with  the  evening  light  full  upon  it.  Still  it  was 
worth  going,  and  we  gained  a  better  idea  of  the  real 
height  as  we  rose  ;  it  is  impossible  to  realize  the  height 
of  mountains  from  below,  the  higher  we  are  the  grander 
they  look.  Is  it  not  so  in  other  things  ?  A  certain  pro- 
portionate elevation  is  essential  to  appreciation.  We 
climbed  above  La  Fleg&re,  eagerly  watching  for  the 
expected  break  in  the  clouds  above  the  monarch,  which 
did  not  come.  Suddenly  we  heard  a  low  roar  ending  in 
a  grand  crescendo,  with  a  character  of  its  own  quite 
distinct  from  thunder,  echoing  along  the  whole  chain, 
so  that  we  did  not  know  where  to  look  for  our  long 
hoped-for  avalanche !  M.  L.'s  eye  caught  it  just  in 
time,  rushing  from  the  cloud  upon  the  Aiguille  Verte  ; 
we  only  saw  a  rising  of  white  snow-spray  where  it 
rested.  Twice  more  we  heard  the  same  curiously 
impressive  sound,  but  not  so  loud  or  near.  Barring  the 
avalanche  we  reckoned  this  our  least  interesting  mount- 
ain excursion 


78  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

July  14.       MONTANVERT  AND  MER  DE  GLACE. 

Our  last  Alpine  day  !  Always  excepting  Miirren,  the 
five  days  from  Martigny  to  the  end  of  Chamouni  were 
the  very  essence  of  our  whole  tour  ;  getting  up  to  Pierre 
£  1'Echelle  was  the  centre  and  culmination,  but  Montan- 
vert  was  a  capital  wind-up. 

We  started  at  6.20,  breakfasted  at  the  auberge  more 
than  six  thousand  feet  high,  and  then  with  H.  C.  and 
M.  L.  I  went  across  the  Mer  de  Glace.  We  did  not 
slip  once,  though  we  had  the  gratification  of  seeing  two 
gentlemen  tumble  down.  It  feels  queer  for  the  first  few 
minutes,  but  one  soon  gets  one's  balance  and  one's  gla- 
cier feet.  Only  near  the  farther  shore  there  are  some 
decidedly  interesting  bits,  where  one  has  to  walk  along 
a  ridge  just  wide  enough  to  tread,  with  beautiful  blue 
crevasses  yawning  on  each  side  ;  if  you  slipped,  on  the 
right  you  would  go  down  a  house-roof  slope  of  ice  first, 
and  then  into  the  crevasse,  and  on  the  left  you  would 
go  straight  down  at  once  perpendicularly.  Where  the 
ice  is  blue  at  all,  it  is  wonderfully  blue,  shading  into  an 
intensity  and  depth  of  colour  no  painting  could  exag- 
gerate. But  on  the  whole  the  dirt  is  annoying,  and  I 
cannot  entirely  respect  the  glaciers  in  consequence. 
The  correct  thing  is  to  send  the  mules  round  to  Cha- 
peau  on  the  farther  side,  but  this  seemed  rather  exten- 
sive, and  involved  the  Mauvais  Pas,  so  M.  and  the  mules 
waited  our  return  at  Montanvert.  But,  once  across,  it 
stood  to  reason  I  wanted  to  go  on,  and  bit  by  bit  we 
approached  the  Mauvais  Pas  to  my  intense  delight.  It 
is  a  way,  half  staircase  and  half  shelf,  about  a  foot  wide, 
round  the  face  of  a  perpendicular  rock  overlooking  the 


MONTANVERT  AND  MER  DE  GLACE.  79 

glacier,  and  at  some  height  before  reaching  Chapeau, 
and  looks  most  charmingly  awful.  It  is  not  really  dan- 
gerous, unless  one  is  disposed  to  be  giddy,  for  there 
is  an  iron  rope  fastened  to  the  rock  all  the  way  within 
reach  of  one  hand,  and  with  a  stick  in  the  other  you 
cannot  well  come  to  grief  if  you  step  cautiously. 

Of  course  this  was  quite  irresistible,  so  down  I  went 
and  back  again,  leaving  Devouassoud  with  M.  L.  ;  he 
had  long  ago  given  up  looking  after  me,  but  presently  a 
gentleman  came  up  and  wanted  the  guide  to  go  with 
him,  which  he  did  by  H.  C.'s  permission.  We  were 
rather  amused  at  this.  It  was  a  pull  to  get  back  again 
to  the  crossing  point,  but  it  was  worth  coming,  for  we 
saw  the  pinnacles  and  pyramids  of  ice  at  the  lower  end 
of  the  glacier,  and  heard  the  constant  fall  of  blocks  and 
stones.  "Always  movement  here,"  said  the  guide. 

In  re-crossing  we  diverged  to  see  a  bottomless-look- 
ing hole  in  the  ice,  from  which  rose  a  tremendous  roar 
from  the  hidden  river  three  hundred  feet  below,  raving 
like  an  imprisoned  giant.  We  had  a  shower  during  our 
walk,  but  this  was  all  right,  for  we  got  some  "  effects  "  ; 
it  was  specially  fine  when  a  few  minutes'  sunshine  lit 
up  the  whitest  part  of  the  glacier  near  the  ice  needles, 
and  a  heavy  cloud  threw  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley 
seen  just  over  the  ice  into  the  deepest  violet  shade. 
Just  as  we  got  back  to  the  auberge  it  began  to  rain,  and 
we  waited  two  hours  till  it  cleared. 

On  our  way  to  Chamouni,  I  got  Aristide  Couttet  to 
tell  me  the  rules  and  arrangements  abo.ut  guides,  which 
is  all  code  and  tariff  here,  and  he  explained  clearly  and 
intelligently.  But  do  not  visitors  sometimes  go  to  the 
mountains  without  a  guide  ?  He  answered  just  what  I 


8o  SWISS  LETTERS. 

wanted  him  to  say.  "  Oh  yes,  madame,  but  it  is  very 
foolish  ;  they  only  lose  their  way,  and  it  is  very  danger- 
ous ;  accidents  happen  when  they  will  go  without  one, 
but  if  one  has  a  guide  all  gees  well "  (tout  va  bien}. 
"We  have  a  Guide,  Aristide  ;  do  you  know  who  I 
mean  ?  "  "  Oh  yes,  madame  ;  you  mean  Jesus  Christ, 
He  is  the  best  Guide."  He  seemed  quite  delighted  to 
go  on  with  the  subject,  which  we  did  for  some  time. 
"  One  does  not  fear  death  if  one  has  that  Guide,"  he 
said  ;  "  He  gives  us  salvation  "  (//  nous  donne  le  saluf). 
I  gave  him  some  little  Scripture  papers  ;  he  glanced 
over  them,  and  putting  his  finger  on  some  verses  about 
the  Saviour  (John  iii.  16  was  one),  he  said,  "  C'est  bien 
joli,  cela  !  " 

The  storms  must  be  awful  here  in  winter  ;  we  passed 
hundreds  of  great  pines  broken  short  off  at  the  roots,  or 
torn  right  up.  Devouassoud  said  it  is  most  dangerous 
to  pass  the  forests  when  they  are  laden  with  snow,  if  a 
storm  rises.  The  evening  was  cloudy  but  pleasant,  and 
we  spent  it  on  the  flat  parapeted  roof?  I  gathered  sev- 
eral flowers  on  the  Mauvais  Pas,  and  the  guide  gathered 
a  plant  he  had  never  found  before,  but  it  had  once  been 
shown  him  by  another  guide.  It  is  a  little  green  thing, 
and  as  M.  does  not  know  it,  it  must  be  rare. 

Jos.  Devouassoud  has  been  four  days'  excursions  with 
us,  and  he  asked  us  to  write  him  a  testimonial  in  his 
book,  so  I  wrote  : 

CAREFUL  and  gentle,  respectful  and  steady, 

Always  obliging  and  watchful  and  ready  ; 

Pleasantly  telling,  as  children  say, 

All  about  everything  on  the  way  ; 

Good  for  the  glaciers,  strong  for  the  steeps  ; 

Mighty  for  njountains,  and  lithesome  for  leaps  ; 


CHAMOUNI  TO  ST.  GERVAIS.  81 

Guide  of  experience,  trusty  and  true, 
None  can  be  better  than  Devouassoud  ! 

I   gave    him   a   free   translation  which   pleased   him 
amazingly. 

July  15.     CHAMOUNI  TO  ST.  GERVAIS  (15  miles). 

A  brilliant  morning  after  the  showers,  and  Mont 
Blanc  far  too  dazzling  to  look  at  steadily.  We  thought 
we  had  left  it  all  behind,  and  so  were  astonished  and 
delighted,  when  about  half  way,  to  find  perhaps  the 
most  perfect  single  view  we  have  had  at  all,  even  allow- 
ing for  an  exceptionally  clear  atmosphere.  The  whole 
drive  to  St.  Gervais  is  a  succession  of  beauty,  both  near 
and  distant,  and  I  was  really  sorry  that,  for  the  first 
time,  we  had  a  dashing  driver.  H.  C.  was  exactly  suited 
but  wanted  to  know  how  often  he  had  to  get  absolution 
for  breaking  Protestant  necks  !  St.  Gervais  aux  Bains 
is  an  enormous'mineral  water  establishment,  partly  hotel, 
partly  medical  pension.  It  is  built  in  a  narrow  wooded 
gorge,  and  has  a  fine  waterfall  jusf  beyond  it.  The 
visitors'  rooms  occupy  two  long  wings  with  open  galler- 
ies running  along  the  front  of  each  story  ;  it  is  like 
streets  of  bedrooms,  and  the  view  of  the  same  as  you 
pass  to  your  own  is  comical.  It  was  not  full,  but  there 
were  two  hundred  and  twenty  visitors.  In  the  after- 
noon we  went  to  t^e  village  of  St.  Gervais,  a  stiff  walk 
up  zigzags  out  of  the  gorge  ;  the  view  at  the  top  was  in- 
deed a  lovely  upland  dip  below  Mont  Joli  (8,000  feet) 
with  a  glimpse  of  the  Mont  Blanc  chain  at  one  end,  and 
the  fine  valley  of  Salenches,  bounded  by  jagged  purple 
hills  against  the  evening  sky,  on  the  other.  We  went  to 
6 


82  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

see  Cheminees  des  Fees,  most  curious  pillars  of  gravel, 
with  roofs  of  the  same,  standing  straight  up,  separate 
from  the  side  of  the- rock  against  which  they  are  seen. 

Our  Alpine  work  is  really  over,  and  I  had  a  token 
thereof.  I  had  made  quite  a  small  idol  of  my  alpen- 
stock, with  its  long  spiral  of  names  beginning  with 
Lauterbrunnen  and  ending  with  the  Mauvais  Pas  ;  it 
was  so  handy  and  helpful ;  but  having  served  me  up  to 
the  last  day,  it  closed  its  account  by  falling  out  of  the 
carriage  and  getting  smashed.  I  have  enjoyed  the  Alps 
exceedingly,  not  less  than  I  expected,  and  yet  it  has 
been  in  rather  a  different  way.  When  one  hears  very 
perfect  music,,  pleasure  overshoots  itself  into  pain,  the 
exquisite  thrill  is  just  too  much,  one  longs  to  dare  to  let 
it  all  out  in  tears,  the  cup  of  enjoyment  overflows  as 
the  hand  trembles  with  delight,  and  the  nectar  is  lost 
through  its  very  abundance.  But  if  one  has  a  share  in 
the  performance  of  the  very  same,  the  enjoyment  is  more 
complete  because  less  intense  and  concentrated  ;  the 
physical  action  of  hand  or  voice  is  the  safety  valve,  and 
just  takes  off  the  too  keen  edge,  just  keeps  the  thrill  of 
pleasure  from  rising,  yes  rising,  into  pain.  It  is  exactly 
thus  with  these  mountains.  The  strange,  unique,  solemn 
beauty  would  be  too  oppressive,  the  sense  of  it  would 
weigh  one's  soul  down  into  awe,  would  be  like  a  mighty 
hand  upon  one's  breast,  stopping  the  very  breath  of 
one's  soul.  But  the  physical  exertion  is  just  the  needed 
balance  ;  one  is  in  motion,  there  is  effort,  there  is  even 
the  sense  of  inhaling  a  different  and  most  exhilarating 
air  ;  one  is  thus  kept  within  the  region  of  real  enjoy- 
ment ;  one  has  not  time  for  the  snow  silence  to  fall  on 
one's  heart.  The  pleasure  is  more  perfect  for  one's 


ST.  GERVAIS  TO  GENEVA.  83 

whole  being,  just  because  it  is  more  imperfect  for  the 
higher  part  of  that  being.  If  one  were  borne  on  an 
angel's  wings  up  to  Pierre  Pointue,  one  would  hardly 
dare  speak  in  the  sudden  presence  of  the  snow  glory  ; 
but  as  one  comes  up  on  a  mule  and  grasps  an  alpen- 
stock, one  is  more  inclined  to  shout  and  laugh  with  de- 
light, and  hasten  to  scramble  higher. 

July  16.     ST.  GERVAIS  TO  GENEVA. 

A  splendid  morning,  but  oh  such  a  hot  drive  ;  none 
the  cooler  for  leaving  the  snow  mountains  farther  behind. 
But  they  are  beautiful  to  the  last,  even  at  Geneva  where 
they  edge  the  horizon  like  bright  clouds,  rather  golden 
than  white.  On  this  hot  day  even  the  enormous  Hotel 
de  la  Metropole  was  a  most  welcome  refuge  from  the 
heat,  welcome  actually  to  me  ! 

July  17.    GENEVA. 

A  morning's  shopping  and  strolling.  In  the  evening 
a  drive  to  the  cemetery  at  Petit  Sacconnex,  where,  after 
some  search,  we  found  the  tomb  of  (Mrs.)  Maria  Ver- 
non  Graham,  with  the  text  i  Thess.  iv.  17  ;  also  Dr. 
Barry's  tomb.  We  called  on  Mrs.  Pennefather  (S.  A. 
de  Montmorency).  Major  Pennefather  said  it  had  been, 
a  most  exceptional  summer,  and  that,  till  the  last  few, 
days,  Mont  Blanc  had  not  been  visible  for  six  weeks  ! 

We  went  to  an  open  air  concert  on  Rousseau's  Island 
at  8  P.M.  It  was  very  un-English,  but  very  pretty.  The 
little  island  lies  just  in  the  point  where  the  Rhone  rushes 
out  of  the  lake,  and  is  connected  with  the  city  by  a 
bridge.  On  it  is  a  wooden  cafe,  and  several  trees.  A 


84  SWISS  LETTERS. 

little  semicircular  orchestra,  roofed,  but  open  in  front 
and  brilliantly  lighted,  was  faced  by  about  four  hundred 
chairs  placed  under  the  trees.  The  lake  and  river,  dark 
or  glittering,  reflected  the  bright  rows  of  light  from  quays 
and  bridges  and  hotels  ;  and  the  moon,  after  two  months' 
absence,  shone  through  the  branches  and  lit  up  a  reach 
of  the  Rhone. 

The  music  was  rubbish,  mostly  from  French  operas, 
but  very  prettily  played.  One  piece,  a  string  sextet,  was 
of  higher  order  and  a  real  treat.  The  conductor  stood 
facing  the  audience  instead  of  the  orchestra,  though  he 
occasionally  turned  to  the  instruments  which  led  off  any 
special  point.  It  was  not  the  least  like  English  conduct- 
ing ;  the  time  seemed  less  marked  than  the  expression; 
a  soft  passage  was  given  with  the  slightest  little  move- 
ments of  the  hand,  down,  down,  down,  no  right,  left,  etc., 
at  all  ;  then  you  saw  the  crescendo  coming,  by  the 
stronger  motion. 

Between  the  parts  we  did  "as  they  do  at  Rome,"  or 
Geneva,  and  had  coffee  and  ices  at  one  of  the  little 
round  tables  in  the  moonlight. 

July  1 8.     SUNDAY  AT  GENEVA. 

We  were  told  we  should  hear  a  very  superior  preacher 
at  the  Temple  de  St.  Gervais,  so  M.  and  I  went  at  10 
A.M.  We  were  early,  but  the  large  church  was  already 
crowded  ;  it  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  Geneva,  and  it  was 
pleasant  to  think  that  many  of  our  Reformers  had  -wor- 
shipped in  it.  All  the  windows  were  darkened  with  red 
curtains  to  keep  out  the  glare  of  heat.  M.  Tournier 
gave  out  Romans  iii.  22,  23,  but  as  usual  it  was  "an 
oration  and  not  an  exposition."  He  opened  by  saying, 


SUNDA  Y  AT  GENE VA.  85 

"  What  is  Christianity  ?  What  is  the  church  ?  "  A 
pause.  "This  is  the  great  question  on  which  men's 
minds  are  divided."  The  first  part  of  the  sermon,  an 
answer  to  the  first  question,  was  singularly  eloquent  and 
forcible,  the  answer  being  that  it  is  the  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  that  is  "the  religion  of  redemption."  He 
alluded  to  the  rationalistic  controversies  of  Geneva,  and 
implied  that  there  is  much  present  agitation  on  the  sub- 
ject. 

After  service  we  had  passed  a  little  figure  in  the 
crowd  ;  I  turned  back,  it  was  Andrienne  Vignier.  She 
is  staying  two  miles  off,  but  had  walked  through  the  heat 
to  hear  M.  Tournier.  She  only  came  from  Naples  a  few 
days  ago,  and  her  accounts  of  it  were  sadly  amusing. 
We  remarked  on  Switzerland  being  so  noisy.  "  Noisy  ! 
go  to  Italy,  alors  !  There  it  is  all  noise.  Music  ?  Mais 
out !  the  people  all  sing.  To  be  sure,  ha,  ha  !  Imagine 
the  roaring  of  wild  beasts  let  loose,  and  you  have  it. 
They  have  three  notes  in  their  voices,  and  those  three 
come  through  their  nose.  The  donkeys  are  far  better  ; 
they  bray  in  a  long  melancholy  note,  quite  sentimental, 
as  if  they  mourned  the  wrongs  of  the  country.  But  when 
the  people  fight  it  is  more  lively  ;  they  always  fight  when 
they  have  nothing  else  to  do.  They  throw  things  at 
each  other,  generally  their  wooden  shoes  ;  and  they  take 
such  good  aim,  old, !  they  never  miss."  Then  she  de- 
scribed the  family  to  which  she  has  devoted  herself, 
body  and  soul  and  purse,  for  three  years,  all  for  love  of 
the  mother,  her  old  schoolfellow,  for  a  nominal  salary. 
"  There  are  ten  of  them,  and  they  all  have  dispositions 
volcaniques.  You  hear  such  a  noise  "  (here  she  makes 
sundry  illustrative  and  most  unearthly  sounds),  "it  is  an 


86  SWISS  LETTERS. 

eruption,  each  is  a  little  Ve"suve  in  herself,  and  when  it 
is  over  in  one  quarter  it  begins  again  in  another." 

"  Talking  of  Vesuvius,  did  you  see  much  of  it  ?  " 

"  We  saw  the  whole  proceedings  of  the  mountain  day 
and  night,  without  putting  on  our  shoes." 

"  And  what  impression  did  it  give  you  ?  what  was  it 
like?" 

"Hell!  just  hell,  precistment !  But  the  whole  country 
is  its  portal  ;  one  must  not  think  of  being  happy  there, 
it  is  all  misery  and  wretchedness.  These  three  years 
have  been  just  agony,  and  I  am  completely  imbecilified  !  *' 

She  came  with  us  to  the  hotel,  just  her  old  self,  as 
rapid  and  as  funny  as  ever,  only  spicing  her  accounts 
with  more  French  words  and  idioms.  In  the  evening 
we  went  to  English  service,  but  it  was  almost  too  hot  to 
listen. 

July  19.     GENEVA   TO  NEUCHATEL. 

Andrienne  came  early  and  took  us  to  the  Muse*e  Rath, 
a  public  collection  of  statues,  pictures,  etc.  A  poor  Swiss 
woman  found  her  way  in,  and  was  like  a  child  among 
the  pictures,  full  of  interest  and  delight.  I  told  her  about 
some  of  them,  and  she  followed  me  all  the  time  for  the 
chance  of  more  information.  I  stood  some  time  before  a 
beautiful  copy  from  Carlo  Dolce,  "  Christ  with  the  crown 
of  thorns,"  and  she  liked  to  hear  about  the  "  old,  old 
story." 

In  the  heat  of  the  morning  I  went  to  the  Rhone  swim- 
ming bath,  which  was  delicious.  At  one  end  the  river 
comes  in  in  a  regular  waterfall  three  feet  high,  through 
which  you  can  see  the  light,  blue  and  shining  ;  fancy 
sitting  under  this  azured  crystal.  It  was  such  fun  to 


NEUCHATEL  TO  DIJON.  87 

swim  down  the  long  bath,  it  was  one's  beau  ideal  of 
bathing,  and  the  cool,  transparent,  exquisite  blue  is  so 
much  nicer  than  salt  grey  waves. 

We  left  Geneva  by  two  P.M.  steamer  for  Merges,  and, 
though  hazy,  the  view  was  very  beautiful,  especially 
with  the  assistance  of  M.  L.'s  ex  cathedra  announce- 
ments as  to  which  were  mountains  and  which  clouds, 
among  the  dim  golden-white  horizon  fringings  to  the 
south !  We  reached  Neuchatel  about  ten,  after  more 
than  an  hour  on  the  very  edge  of  the  lake  by  moon- 
light, a  very  pretty  line  of  rail. 

July  20.     NEUCHATEL. 

Simply  broiling !  The  rest  shopped  all  the  morning, 
gifts  for  home,  etc.  ;  I  stayed  in  the  comparatively  cool 
and  very  pleasant  Hotel  Bellevue  saloon,  close  to  the 
lake  and  public  gardens.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Maynard  are 
here,  which  is  a  great  treat  ;  his  chaplaincy  is  now  over, 
so  we  were  only  just  in  time  to  meet  them.  We  wished 
to  go  to  Chaumont  in  the  afternoon,  but  all  the  carriages 
were  engaged,  so  we  had  a  row  on  the  lake  instead. 
We  tried  to  make  out  Mont  Blanc  and  the  Jungfrau,  but 
it  is  tantalizing  to  try  to  identify  those  majestic 
presences  among  far,  faint,  shadowy  cloud  outlines,  after 
one  has  stood  face  to  face  with  them  ;  it  was  looking  at 
the  wrong  side  of  the  tapestry.  The  moonlight  was 
perfect ;  what  would  we  not  have  given  for  an  hour  of 
it  at  Thun,  or  Lucerne,  or  Chamouni,  or  Vevey  ? 

July  21.     NEUCHATEL  TO  DIJON. 

What  would  Frank  have  said  ?  I  was  coward  enough 
to  decline  going  with  the  others  to  the  cathedral  on 


38  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

account  of  the  heat,  and  had  a  luxurious  morning  of 
writing  and  chatting  with  Mr.  M.  The  heat  was  in- 
tense. Mr.  M.  said  he  "wished  last  Sunday  that  he 
could  have  preached  in  the  lake !  "  Fancy  preacher  and 
congregation  up  to  their  necks !  it  would  have  been 
emphatically  "  a  refreshing  service." 

Our  afternoon  train  saved  us  much  heat,  for  after 
sunset  it  was  cool  and  pleasant,  and  we  did  not  get  to 
Dijon  till  nearly  eleven  P.M.  The  first  hour  and  a  half 
from  Neuchatel  till  near  Pontarlier  is  right  across  the 
Jura  chain,  not  grand,  but  extremely  beautiful,  especially 
at  first,  when  the  line  rises  steeply  along  the  side  of  a 
splendid  gorge,  wooded,  except  where  the  limestone 
rocks  are  too  precipitous  to  give  any  hold  for  firs.  And 
it  is  wonderful  how  little  hold  seems  necessary  for  tree 
roots  in  Switzerland  ;  they  cling  to  rocks  where  one 
would  have  thought  not  a  bush  or  even  a  plant  could 
find  footing,  and  shoot  up  straight  and  stately,  vege- 
table aiguilles. 

As  we  left  Neuchatel  we  looked  out  for  the  possi- 
bility of  a  definite  farewell  to  the  Alps.  What  a  strange, 
sad  fascination  there  is  about  a  last  glimpse !  Above 
the  hazy  horizon -were  some  little,  pale  whitenesses;  was 
it  to  these  that  our  good-bye  must  be  said  ?  So  we 
called  in  our  mountain  oracle,  M.  L.,  who  answered 
authoritatively  "that  they  were  Alps  certainly,  Mont 
Blanc  probably."  So  we  watched  on  till  they  were 
lost :  all  silent.  But  is  it  not  then  that  thoughts  talk 
loudest  ? 

Shall  we  ever  see  them  again  ? 

"  The  works  of  the  Lord  are  great,  sought  out  of  all 
them  that  have  pleasure  therein." 


II. 

THE    MOUNTAIN    MAIDENS.* 

(ZELLA,  DORA,  LISETTA). 

A  CANTATA. 

PART  I.    SUNRISE. 
(i).  DAWN  CHORUS. 

THE  stars  die  out,  and  the  moon  grows  dim, 
Slowly,  softly,  the  dark  is  paleing  ! 

Comes  o'er  the  eastern  horizon-rim, 
Slowly,  softly,  a  bright  unveiling. 

The  white  mist  floats  in  the  vale  at  rest, 

Ghostly,  dimly,  a  silver  shiver  ; 
The  golden  east  and  the  purple  west 

Flushing  deep  with  a  crimson  quiver. 

The  mountains  gleam  with  expectant  light, 
Near  and  grandly,  or  far  and  faintly, 

In  festal  robing  of  solemn  white, 
Waiting,  waiting,  serene  and  saintly. 


*  The  music  to  this  cantata,  for  treble  voices,  by  Frank 
Romer,  is  published  by  Hutchings  and  Romer,  9  Conduit  Street, 
Regent  Street. 

(89) 


90  SWISS  LETTERS. 

Lo  !  on  the  mountain-crest,  sudden  and  fair, 
Bright  herald  of  morning,  the  rose-tint  is  there  ; 
Peak  after  peak  lighteth  up  with  the  glow 
That  crowneth  with  ruby  the  Alpine  snow. 

Summit  on  summit,  and  crest  beyond  crest, 
The  beacons  are  spreading  away  to  the  west ; 
Crimson  and  fire  and  amber  and  rose 
Touch  with  life  and  with  glory  the  Alpine  snows. 

(2).  CHORALE. 

Father,  who  hast  made  the  mountains, 
Who  hast  formed  each  tiny  flower, 

Who  hast  filled  the  crystal  fountains, 
Who  hast  sent  us  sun  and  shower : 

Hear  Thy  children's  morning  prayer, 

Asking  for  Thy  guardian  care  ; 

Keep  and  guide  us  all  the  day, 

Lead  us  safely  all  the  way. 

Let  Thy  glorious  creation 

Be  the  whisper  of  Thy  power  ; 

New  and  wo'ndrous  revelation 
Still  unfolding  every  hour. 

Let  the  blessing  of  Thy  love 

Rest  upon  us  from  above  ; 

And  may  evening  gladness  be 

Full  of  thanks  and  praise  to  Thee. 

(3).  RECITATIVE. — Dora. 

Our  pleasant  summer  work  begins.     You  go, 
O  merry  Zella,  with  the  obedient  herd 
To  upland  pastures,  singing  all  the  way  ; 
And  you,  Lisetta,  to  the  sterner  heights, 
Where  only  foot  of  Alpine  goat  may  pass, 
Or  step  of  mountain  maiden.     It  is  mine 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  gx 

To  work  at  home,  preparing  smooth  white  cheese 
For  winter  store  and  often  needed  gain  J 
And  mine  the  joy  of  welcoming  once  more 
My  loving  sisters  when  the  evening  falls. 

(4).  SONG. — Dora. 

The  morning  light  flingeth 

Its  wakening  ray, 
And  as  the  day  bringeth 

The  work  of  the  day, 
The  happy  heart  singeth, 

Awake  and  away  ! 

No  life  can  be  dreary 

When  work  is  delight  ; 
Though  evening  be  weary, 

Rest  cometh  at  night ; 
And  all  will  be  cheery 

If  faithful  and  right. 

When  duty  is  treasure 

And  labour  a  joy, 
How  sweet  is  the  leisure 

Of  ended  employ  ! 

Then  only  can  pleasure 

Be  free  from  alloy. 

[Repeat  ver.  i]. 
(5).  SONG.— Zella. 

Away,  away  !  with  the  break  of  day, 

To  the  sunny  upland  slope  ! 
Away,  away,  while  the  earliest  ray 

Tells  of  radiant  joy  and  hope. 

With  the  gentle  herd  that-  know  the  word 

Of  kindness  and  of  care, 
While  with  footsteps  free  they  follow  me 

As  I  lead  them  anywhere. 


92  SWISS  LETTERS. 

Away,  away  !  with  a  merry  lay, 
And  the  chime  of  a  hundred  bells  ; 

Away,  away  !  with  a  carol  gay, 
And  an  echo  from  the  fells. 

To  the  pastures  high,  where  the  shining  sky 
Looks  down  on  a  wealth  of  flowers  ; 

To  the  sapphire  spots,  where  forget-me-nots 
Smile  on  through  the  lonely  hours. 

Away,  away  !  while  the  breezes  play 

In.  the  fragrant  summer  morn  ; 
Away,  away  !  while  the  rock-walls  grey 

Resound  with  the  alpenhorn. 

To  the  crags  all  bright  in  the  golden  light 

With  floral  diadems, 
As  fresh  and  fair,  as  "  rich  and  rare," 

As  any  royal  gems. 

Away,  away  !  while  the  rainbow  spray 

Wreathes  the  silver  waterfalls  ; 
Away,  away  !     Oh,  I  cannot  stay, 

When  the  voice  of  the  morning  calls  ! 

(6).  RECITATIVE. — Liselta. 
Adieu,  my  Dora  !     Zella  dear,  adieu  ! 
The  quick  light  tinkle  of  the  goat  bells  now 
Reminds  me  they  are  waiting  for  my  call, 
To  follow  where  small  flowers  have  dared  to  peep 
And  laugh,  beside  the  glacier  and  the  snow. 
I  shall  not  go  alone,  your  love  shall  go  with  me. 

(7).  DUET. — Zella  and  Dora. 
Adieu,  adieu  till  eventide  ! 

The  hours  will  quickly  pass, 
The  shadow  of  the  rocks  will  glide 

Across  the  sunny  grass. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  93 

We  shall  not  mourn  the  lessening  light, 
For  we  shall  meet  at  home  to-night. 

Adieu,  adieu  till  eventide  ! 

The  hour  of  home  and  rest, 
The  hour  that  finds  us  side  by  side, 

The  sweetest  and  the  best. 
For  love  is  joy,  and  love  is  light, 
And  we  shall  meet  at  home  to-night ! 

Adieu,  adieu  till  eventide  ! 

Tis  but  a  little  while  ! 
We  would  not  stay  the  morning's  pride, 

Or  noontide's  dazzling  smile  ; 
But  welcome  evening's  waning  light, 
For  we  shall  meet  at  home  to-night ! 


PART  II.    NOON. 

(8).  SONG. — Lisetta. 

IT  is  night  upon  the  mountains,  and  the  breeze  has  died  away, 
And  the  rainbow  of  the  morning  passes  from  the  torrent  spray, 
And  a  calm  of  golden  silence  falls  upon  the  glistening  snow, 
While  the  shadows  of  the  noon  clouds  rest  upon  the  glen  below. 

It  is  noon  upon  the  mountains,  noon  upon  the  giant  rocks  ; 
Hushed   the  tinkle  of  the  goat  bells,  and  the  bleating  of  the 

flocks  ; 

They  are  sleeping  on  the  gentians,  and  upon  the  craggy  height, 
In  the  glow  of  Alpine  noontide,  in  the  glory  of  the  light. 

It  is  noon  upon  the  mountains.     I  will  rest  beside  the  snow, 
Glittering  summits  far  above  me,  blue-veined  glaciers  far  below  ; 
I  will  rest  upon  the  gentians,  till  the  quiet  shadows  creep 
Cool  and  soft,  along  the  mountains,  waking  me  from  pleasant 
sleep. 


94  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

(9).  NOON  CHORUS. 

Rest !  while  the  noon  is  high  ; 

Rest  while  the  glow 
Falls  from  the  summer  sky 

Over  the  snow. 

Rest !  where  the  alpenrose 

Crimsons  the  height, 
Piercing  the  mountain  snows, 

Purpling  the  light. 
Rest !  while  the  waterfalls, 

Murmuring  deep 
Far  away  lullabies, 

Hush  thee  to  sleep. 

Rest !  while  the  noon,  etc. 

Rest !  where 'the  mountains  rise, 

Shining  and  white, 
Piercing  the  deep  blue  skies, 

Solemn  and  bright. 
Sleep  while  the  silence  falls 

Soothing  to  rest, 
Sweetest  of  lullabies, 

Calming  and  blest. 

Rest !  while  the  noon,  etc. 

(10).  RECITATIVE. — Lisetta. 

Where  am  I  ?    I  was  sleeping  by  the  snow 

Upon  the  alpenroses  in  the  noon. 

But  am  I  dreaming  now  ?    The  sun  is  low, 

'Tis  twilight  in  the  valley,  and  I  hear 

No  music  of  the  goat  bells.     Oh,  I  fear 

It  is  no  dream  ;  but  night  is  coming  soon, 

And  I  am  all  alone  upon  the  height ; 

And  there  are  small  faint  tracks,  too  quickly  lost, 

That  need  sure  foot  and  eye  in  fullest  light ; 

And  crags  to  leap,  and  torrents  to  be  crossed  ! 

I  go  !  may  Power  and  Love  still  guard  and  guide  aright. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  95 

(n).  SONG. — Lisetta. 

Alone,  alone  !  yet  round  me  stand 
God's  mountains,  still  and  grand  ! 
Still  and  grand,  serene  and  bright, 
Sentinels  clothed  in  armour  white, 
And  helmeted  with  scarlet  light. 
His  Power  is  near, 
I  need  not  fear. 

Beneath  the  shadow  of  His  throne, 
Alone,  alone  !  yet  not  alone  ! 

Alone,  alone  !  yet  beneath  me  sleep 
The  flowers  His  hand  doth  keep  ; 
Small  and  fair,  by  crag  or  dell, 
Trustfully  closing  star  and  bell, 
Eve  by  eve  as  twilight  fell. 
His  Love  is  near, 
I  need  not  fear. 

Beneath  the  rainbow  of  His  throne, 
Alone,  alone  !  yet  not  alone  ' 

Alone,  alone  !  yet  I  will  not  fear, 
For  Power  and  Love  are  near. 
Step  by  step,  by  rock  and.  rill, 
Trustfully  onward,  onward  still, 
I  follow  home  with  hope  and  will ; 
So  near,  so  near, 
I  do  not  fear. 

Beneath  the  Presence  of  His  throne 
Alone,  alone  !  yet  not  alone ! 


96  SWISS  LETTERS. 

PAR  T  III.    S  UNSET. 

(12).  SUNSET  CHORUS. 

IT  is  coming,  it  is  coming  ! 

That  marvellous  up-summing 
Of  the  loveliest  and  grandest  all  in  one  ; 

The  great  transfiguration, 

And  the  royal  coronation, 
Of  the  Monarch  of  the  mountains  by  the  priestly  Sun. 

Watch  breathlessly  and  hearken, 

While  the  forest  throne-steps  darken 
His  investiture  in  crimson  and  in  fire  ; 

Not  a  herald  trumpet  ringeth, 

Not  a  paean  echo  flingeth, 
There  is  music  of  a  silence  that  is  mightier  far  and  higher. 

Then  in  radiant  obedience 

A  flush  of  bright  allegiance 
Lights  up  the  vassal  surfmits  and  the  proud  peaks  all  around  ; 

And  a  thrill  of  mystic  glory 

Quivers  on  the  glaciers  hoary, 
As  the  ecstasy  is  full,  and  the  mighty  brow  is  crowned. 

Crowned  with  ruby  of  resplendence, 

In  unspeakable  transcendence, 
'Neath  a  canopy  of  purple  and  of  gold  outspread  ; 

With  rock  sceptres  upward  pointing, 

While  the  glorious  anointing 
Of  the  consecrating  sunlight  is  poured  upon  his  head. 

Then  a  swift  and  still  transition 

Falls  upon  the  gorgeous  vision, 
And  the  ruby  and  the  fire  pass  noiselessly  away  ; 

But  the  paleing  of  the  splendour 

Leaves  a  rose  light,  clear  and  tender, 

And  lovelier  than  the  loveliest  dream  that  melts  before  the 
day. 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  97 

Oh  to  keep  it,  oh  to  hold.it, 

"While  the  tremulous  rays  enfold  it  ! 
Oh  to  drink  in  all  the  beauty,  and  never  thirst  again  ! 

Yet  less  lovely  if  less  fleeting, 

For  the  mingling  and  the  meeting 
Of  the  wonder  and  the  rapture  can  but  overflow  in  pain. 

It  is  passing,  it  is  passing ! 

While  the  softening  glow  is  glassing 
In  the  crystal  of  the  heavens  all  the  fairest  of  its  rose ; 

Ever  faintly  and  more  faintly, 

Ever  saintly  and  more  saintly, 
Gleam  the  snowy  heights  around  us  in  holiest  repose. 

O  pure  and  perfect  whiteness  ! 

O  mystery  of  brightness, 
Upon  those  still  majestic  brows  shed  solemnly  abroad  I 

Like  the  calm  and  blessed  sleeping 

Of  the  saints  in  Christ's  own  keeping, 
When  the  smile  jof  holy  peace  is  left,  last  witness  for  their  God  I 


(13).  SONG. — Dora. 

The  tuneful  chime  of  the  herd  is  still, 

For  the  milking  hour  is  past, 
And  tinkle,  tinkle,  along  the  hill, 

The  goat  bells  come  at  last. 
But  sister,  sister,  where  art  thou  ? 
We  watch  and  wait  for  thy  coming  now. 

The  crimson  fades  from  the  farthest  height, 

And  the  rose-fire  pales  away  ; 
And  softly,  softly  the  shroud  of  night 

Enfolds  the  dying  day. 
But  sister,  sister,  where  art  thou? 
We  watch  and  wait  for  thy  coming  now. 


98  SWISS  LETTERS. 

The  cold  wind  swells  from  the  icy  steep, 
And  the  pine  trees  quake  and  moan  ; 

And  darkly,  darkly  the  grey  clouds  creep  ; 
And  thou  art  all  alone. 

O  sister,  sister,  where  art  thou  ? 

We  watch  and  wait  for  thy  coming  now. 


(14).  DUET. — Zella  and  Dora. 

We  will  seek  thee,  we  will  find  thee, 

Though  the  night  winds  howl  and  sweep  ( 
We  will  follow  through  the  torrent, 

We  will  follow  up  the  steep, 
Follow  where  the  alpenroses 

Make  the  mountain  all  aglow, 
Follow,  follow  through  the  forest, 

Follow,  follow  to  the  snow  ! 
And  our  Alpine  call  shall  echo 

From  the  rock  and  from  the  height, 
Till  a  gladder  tone  rebounding, 
Thine  own  merry  voice  resounding, 

Fill  us  with  a  great  delight. 

Lisetta  1     Lisetta  ! 
Hush  and  hearken.     Call  again  ! 

Lisetta  !     Lisetta  ! 
Hearken,  hearken.     All  in  vain  ! 

We  will  seek  thee,  we  will  find  thee, 

In  the  wary  chamois"  haunt ; 
Toil  and  terror,  doubt  and  danger, 

Loving  hearts  shall  never  daunt ! 
We  will  follow  in  the  darkness, 

We  will  follow  in  the  light  ; 
Follow,  follow  till  we  find  thee, 

Through  the  noon  or  through  the  night. 
We  will  seek  thee,  we  will  find  thee, 


THE  MOUNTAIN  MAIDENS.  99 

Never  weary  till  we  hear, 
Over  all  the  torrents  rushing, 
Joyous  answer  clearly  gushing, 
Thine  own  Alpine  echo  dear ! 

Lisetta  !      Lisetta  ! 
Hush  and  hearken.     All  in  vain  ! 

Lisetta  !     Lisetta ! 
Hearken,  hearken.     Call  again  ! 

(15).  TRIO. — Zella,  Dora,  and  Lisetta. 

LISETTA  (pp\     I  am  coming  ! 

ZELLA  and  DORA  (/).     She  is  coming  ! 

LISETTA  (/).     I  am  coming  !    Wait  for  me  ! 

ZELLA  and  DORA  (/).     She  is  coming  ! 

LISETTA  (mf)    I  am  coming ! 

ZELLA  and  DORA  (/).     Come,  oh  come,  we  wait  for  thee  ! 

Nearer,  nearer  comes  the  echo  ; 
Nearer,  nearer  comes  the  voice  ; 

Nearer,  nearer  fall  the  footsteps, 

Making  us  indeed  rejoice. 
LISETTA.     I  am  coming,  wait  for  me  ! 
ZELLA  and  DORA.     Come,  oh  come,  we  wait  for  thee  1 

ZELLA,  DORA  and  LISETTA. 
We      (  her,  \  we     I  her,  ) 

•j  have  sought  •<  have  found         > 

(  me,  >  they  (  me,  ) 


They  ( 

Fear  and  danger  all  are  past, 

( we  lead  her   ) 

Now  with  joyful  song  \  .  I 

&  ]  they  lead  me  J 

Safely,  safely  home  at  last ! 


(16).  CHORUS. — Finale. 

Safe  home,  safe  home  ! 
Fear  and  danger  all  are  past, 
We  are  safely  home  at  last ! 


ioo  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

Oh,  the  lovelight  shed  around, 

In  a  rich  and  radiant  flow, 
When  the  loved  and  lost  are  found, 

Is  the  sweetest  heart  can  know. 
Fairer  than  the  dawn-light  tender, 

Fuller  than  the  noontide  glow, 
Brighter  than  the  sunset  splendour, 

Purer  than  the  moonlit  snow. 

Now  let  the  wild  cloud  sweep, 

Let  the  wild  rain  pour  ! 
Now  let  the  avalanche  leap 

With  its  long,  grand  roar  ! 
Now  let  the  black  night  fall 

On  the  mountain  crest ! 
Safe  are  our  dear  ones  all 

In  our  mountain  nest. 

Safe  home,  safe  home  ! 
Fear  and  danger  all  are  past, 
We  are  safely  home  at  last ! 


III. 

EXTRACTS    FROM    LETTERS    WRITTEN 
TO  J.  M.  C.  IN  1871. 


LETTER  I. 

June  29,  1871.  Sitting  in  an  arbour  outside  the 
station  at  Belfort,  the  only  strong  place  left 
to  the  French  in  this  region. 

DEAR  MIRIAM  : 

We  have  had  a  most  interesting  journey,  and  I  feel 
quite  historical.  We  crossed  from  Newhaven  with  3 
crowd  of  returning  French,  and  reached  Dieppe  about 
9.30  A.M.,  had  coffee,  and  went  on  vid  Rouen  to  Paris. 
H.  C.  would  be  charmed  with  Rouen,  and  I  bracket  it 
with  Edinburgh  and  Berne  as  the  three  most  pictur- 
esque towns  I  know.  We  had  just  time  to  go,  vid  rue 
Jeanne  d'Arc,  to  St.  Ouen,  which  is  a  crystallization  of 
all  one's  floating  visions  of  lovely  architecture.  E.  Clay 
had  laid  in  a  splendid  stock  of  little  French  books  and 
tracts,  which  we  were  to  divide  between  us ;  and  as  we 
thought  Rouen  was  not  a  usual  place  for  tract  distribu- 
tion, we  gave  away  many,  and  you  cannot  think  how 
delighted  people  seemed.  One  tall  grave  man,  of  su- 
perior rank,  watched  us,  and  came  up  to  E.  asking  if  she 

(101) 


102  SWISS  LETTERS. 

had  many.  We  were  afraid  he  meant  to  interfere,  as  he 
looked  very  official ;  however,  he  only  wanted  to  ask  "if 
we  would  kindly  give  him  one  for  himself,  two  if  we 
could."  He  took  them,  and  thanked  us  as  if  we  had 
given  him  some  great  thing. 

We  left  Rouen  at  2  P.M.,  and  made  friends  with  two 
very  taking  French  girls  returning  to  Paris  after  the  war  ; 
one  of  them  had  immense  lovely  eyes.  They  told  us  all 
sorts  of  war  experiences.  One  had  an  uncle  in  La 
Roquette,  who  escaped  by  bribing  the  guard  the  night 
before  he  was  to  be  shot  ;  her  own  house  left  standing 
and  untouched,  but  houses  on  each  side  burnt  to  a  shell. 
The  other  had  a  brother  who  had  three  horses  killed 
under  him,  but  escaped  unwounded  ;  a  cousin  was  killed 
in  the  first  battle,  an  uncle  escaped  from  his  chateau  two 
minutes  before  the  "  Communistes  "  entered  and  killed 
three  men  instead  of  him  ;  this  girl  said  her  family  had 
lost  nearly  all  their  property,  the  other  had  fared  better. 
They  both  reviled  the  Emperor,  and  said  it  was  all  his 
fault ;  that  he  was  resolved  on  war  in  order  to  preserve 
his  dynasty  ;  but  they  would  not  own  that  the  Commu- 
nists were  French  altogether,  "  it  was  the  bad  of  all 
countries  who  constituted  the  Communistes  and  they  dis- 
owned them  as  compatriotes"  As  we  neared  Paris  they 
pointed  out  where  the  line  had  been  broken  up,  and 
soon  after  we  crossed  the  Seine  by  two  bridges  (an 
island  being  in  the  middle)  of  the  most  fragile  and  tem- 
porary-looking appearance,  at  about  two  miles  an  hour, 
with  awful  squealings  of  the  engine  all  the  time.  The 
ruins  of  the  broken  bridge  were  about  fifty  yards  higher. 
Then  we  saw  war  effects  visible  and  terrible  ;  for  some 
miles  all  through  those  bright-looking  suburbs  it  was  one 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  103 

succession  of  desolations,  great  ragged  holes  in  the  roofs 
and  walls  of  some  houses,  and  others  mere  shells,  gutted 
entirely,  and  others  laid  open  like  the  front  of  a  baby 
house,  a  whole  wall  having  fallen,  and  showing  the 
skeleton  of  the  stories. 

It  was  far  worse  than  I  expected  to  see,  and  the  two 
poor  girls  were  sadly  distressed  and  flushed,  and  their 
pretty  eyes  full  of  tears.  »  We  were  so  sorry  for  them. 

At  Paris,  4.20,  we  could  not  get  a  cab,  and  walked 
with  a  porter  about  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  station  for 
Basle  (vid  Troyes).  Most  of  the  way  was  just  Paris  of 
old,  gay  and  clean  and  lively,  but  here  and  there  houses 
were  pitted  with  bullet  marks,  and  over  nearly  all  the 
churches  we  saw  the  mark  of  the  Communists  in  large- 
lettered  "  Liberti,  Egalite,  Fraternite" 

At  the  rue  Strasbourg  station  we  decided  to  goby  the 
night  train,  and  meantime  set  off  to  see  the  more  special 
ruins.  We  walked  nearly  two  miles  before  we  could 
find  a  vehicle,  and  then  drove  to  the  Tuileries ;  the 
principal  walls  are  standing,  but  through  the  burnt-out 
windows  I  noticed  especially  the  superb  rooms  I  went 
through  with  you,  not  a  floor  or  a  cross  wall  was  left. 
Then  the  gardens  looked  so  knocked  about,  and  soldiers' 
tents  looked  queer  and  ominous.  The  Palais  Royal 
seemed  much  the  same,  and  the  stumpy  pedestal  of  the 
Colonne  Vendome  looked  most  melancholy. 

Our  driver  was  a  Communist,  I  fancy,  and  a  lively  one. 
We  bemoaned  the  Tuileries. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  he,  laughing,  "  it's  all  right,  that  makes 
work  for  the  labourers." 

He  showed  us  the  Colonne  Vendome  that  was,  with 
absolute  glee,  saying,  "  We  have  taken  it  down  that  an- 
other may  be  put  up  !  " 


104  SWISS  LETTERS. 

"  Where  is  the  money  to  come  from  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  there  is  always  money  enough  forthcoming  when 
we  want  it !  " 

"  Were  you  in  Paris  during  the  siege  ?  " 

"  Surely  !  it  is  my  country,  my  Paris." 

The  unsubdued  care-for-nought  look  of  the  man  gave 
me  a  notion,  of  French  levity.  He  showed  us  the  rue 
de  la  Paix,  where  the  awful  massacre  began,  and  the 
bullet  marks  on  the  houses.  In  contrast  to  all  this  the 
boulevards  looked  just  as  gay  as  in  1869,  crowded  and 
bright ;  no  end  of  people  drinking  coffee  and  Wine  at 
the  little  tables  under  the  trees,  theatre  placards  in  all 
directions,  and  all  just  as  usual ;  only  it  was  less  coloured^ 
for  we  took  special  notice  that  at  least  seven  out  of  eight 
women  were  in  mourning  ;  no  crape,  perhaps  they  can't 
afford  it,  but  plain  black  ;  this  was  most  striking,  and  a 
great  contrast  to  the  colours  of  1869.  We  saw  a  good 
many  dirty  and  dismal  looking  soldiers,  and  were  told 
that  these  were  returned  French  prisoners  coming  in  by 
every  train. 

We  left  Paris  by  eight  P.M.  train  and  arrived  at  Belfort 
at  nine  A.M.,  nearly  an  hour  late.  All  beyond  this  (Bel- 
fort)  is  in  Prussian  hands,  so  the  French  officials  don't 
or  won't  know  anything  about  it,  and  show  no  timetables, 
and  give  no  answer  but  shrugs  to  any  question,  or  they 
refer  one  to  "  those  Germans"  at  the  other  end  of  the 
station.  It  is  quite  sadly  comical. 

We  both  vote  a  night  journey  a  great  success  ;  after 
9.30  we  had  the  carriage  to  ourselves,  and  were  quite 
luxuriously  comfortable.  Mrs.  Snepp  gave  me  a  hood 
which  was  a  great  comfort,  and  E.  admires  it  extremely. 

The  guard  was  most  polite,  and,  though  he  did  not 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  105 

resort  to  the  simple  expedient  of  locking  us  up,  he  took 
trouble  in  warni-ng  people  off  as  if  they  were  canaille 
compared  with  English  ladies,  there  being  no  other 
specimens  of  the  article  on  this  route.  One  unadvised 
individual  opened  our  door,  and  the  guard  rushed  at 
him  with  "  March-t-en  !  il  y  a  deux  mesdames  banquees  ; 
march-t-en!  hut?  "  Is  not  banquees  a  good  word  ?  We 
don't  know  whether  we  slept  much,  because  we  seemed 
to  be  aware  of  the  stations,  at  most  of  which  there  was 
tremendous  hullabalooing,  occasioned  by  soldiers  return- 
ing from  Prussia.  We  quite  roused  up  at  3.30,  and  fell 
upon  gingerbread  and  biscuits,  and  then  subsided  till 
after  six,  when  we  got  up  for  g.ood,  and  found  ourselves 
nearing  and  then  crossing  the  lovely  Vosges  mountains. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  between  twilight  and  moonlight, 
about  nine  P.M.,  we  passed  a  most  desolate  and  scathed 
region,  and  were  told  it  was  the  battlefield  of  Champigny. 
Anything  grimmer  and  gloomier  you  could  not  imagine  ; 
ground  broken  and  scarred,  nothing  but  weeds  growing, 
a  few  deserted  cottages  with  great  gaps  in  roofs  and  ball 
marks  with  great  cracky  radiating  from  them  in  the  walls, 
and  many,  terribly  many,  irregular-shaped  mounds  at 
irregular  distances,  where  heaps  of  dead  were  buried 
just  where  they  fell.  It  was  so  ghastly,  and  made  war 
seem  so  real. 

After  we  had  breakfasted  here,  we  sauntered  towards 
the  fortifications,  and  distributed  little  books  as  we  went 
along,  and  never  had  such  a  time  of  it !  The  people 
were  so  eager  after  them,  we  only  wished  we  had  hun- 
dreds more  ;  several  superior  people  came  and  asked  for 
them,  though  we  only  offered  them  to  the  poor.  Some 
asked  for  "  another  to  give  to  a  friend  "  ;  one  workman 


106  SWISS  LETTERS. 

at  the  fort  seemed  delighted,  and  begged  us  to  give  him 
some  for  his  fellow  workmen  ;  there  were  a  great  many 
at  work  above,  he  said,  and  they  would  be  so  glad  of 
them.  We  went  into  a  place  where  some  wounded 
soldiers  and  some  women  at  work  were  sitting  ;  they 
spoke  most  gratefully,  and  rose,  and  bowed.  "  Merci 
infiniment,  infiniment !  "  said  one  man.  We  exhausted 
our  stock,  and  after  having  pottered  about  the  fortifica- 
tions we  parted,  as  E.  wished  to  go  farther,  and  I  came 
back  to  write.  As  I  passed  through  the  town  I  found 
lots  of  people  on  the  look-out  for  me,  to  ask  for  more 
little  books  ;  at  one  point  at  least  thirty  people  clustered 
round  me,  begging  for  more.  I  had  only  three  French 
hymns  left,  and  they  were  so  disappointed  that,  after 
talking  a  little  to  them,  I  told  them  they  might  come 
to  the  station  for  some.  We  took  the  opportunity  ;  for 
plenty  of  people  give  tracts  on  the  Swiss  routes,  but 
here  they  are  evidently  a  novelty. 

Belfort  is  terribly  battered  about ;  the  large  church  is 
just  a  ruin,  not  a  square  yard  of  roof  whole  ;  the  houses 
nearest  the  fort  are  simply  heaps  of  ruins.  The  weather  is 
just  warm  enough  to  be  pleasant  for  sitting  out  of  doors 
without  wrap.  E.  and  I  are  mutually  satisfied  with  our 
equipments,  which  are  nearly  alike  ;  and  having  nothing 
but  what  we  can  carry  ourselves  on  emergency  is  most 
delightful,  and  we  have  been  "  first  come  first  served  " 
several  times  already.  The  "  unprotected  female  "  line 
answers  first-rate  ;  every  one  is  civil  and  attends  to  us. 
I  hope  somebody  will  write  to  us  at  Zermatt  ;  I  ought 
to  get  some  encouragement  to  write  my  circulars.  Love 
all  round  in  general. 

Your  loving  sister,  F 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  107 

P.S. — Mrs.  S.'s  maid  supposed,  of  course,  we  should 
have  a  courier  ;  did  you  ever !  I  think  E.  and  I  could 
train  a  courier  if  wished ;  but  the  idea  of  our  being 
taken  in  tow  by  one ! 


LETTER  II. 

Beyond  ERSHFELD.     June  30. 

E.  and  I  were  in  such  a  state  of  felicity  that  it  went 
beyond  talking,  and  we  walked  in  a  silence  of  delight. 
We  are  (for  siesta)  encamped  under  two  trees  and  a 
huge  boulder,  a  little  more  than  half  way  from  Altdorf 
to  Amsteg  (nine  miles),  at  a  most  lovely  bend  of  this 
valley  which  the  "  Practical  Swiss  Guide "  well  de- 
scribes as  "  solemnly  beautiful,"  the  Brrstenstock  tower- 
ing close  in  front  of  us,  a  cone  of  snow.  Can't  you 
imagine  me  perfectly  suited  !  But  I  will  go  back  to 
where  I  left  off.  When  E.  came  back  to  me  at  Belfort, 
she  said  she  was  convinced  no  one  but  an  "  unprotected 
female  "  would  have  been  allowed  to  go  where  she  did, 
up  among  the  fortifications  and  on  the  top  of  the 
walls !  The  sentinels  merely  looked  at  her,  but  no  one 
spoke  to  her.  She  had  found  a  whole  street  in  entire 
ruins. 

We  left  the  Belfort  station  at  two,  and  arrived  at 
Basle  at  five.  I  must  own  to  having  been  a  little  nervous 
at  crossing  the  broken  and  only  partially  repaired  bridges 
and  viaducts ;  we  crossed  one  great  breach  at  an 
immense  height,  on  what  seemed  merely  temporary 
beams,  so.  that  we  looked  out  of  the  window  into  the 
valley  below,  without  any  apparent  thing  under  the 


IDS  SWISS  LETTERS. 

carriage  !  At  one  station  we  passed  an  ambulance  train 
very  slowly,  so  that  we  could  see  well  into  each 
"  doktor's  wagen,"  full  of  all  sorts  of  surgical-looking 
things,  and  a  "  kitchen  carriage,"  full  of  stoves  and  pots 
and  pans,  and  others  evidently  for  the  wounded  with 
beds  in  them. 

Had  we  ordered  special  trains,  we  could  not  hitherto 
have  done  better  ;  and  at  Basle,  where  we  thought  of 
sleeping,  we  had  just  time  for  a  comfortable  mecl  at  the 
station,  and  then  a  train  was  going  direct  to  Lucerne  ; 
this  was  irresistible,  and  we  did  not  feel  tired,  so  on  we 
went.  It  was  a  most  exquisite  evening,  brilliantly  clear, 
and  the  rail  from  Basle  to  Olten  one  series  of  changing 
lovely  views.  Just  before  Olten  we  had  a  sudden  reve- 
lation of  Alps ;  for  about  five  minutes  a  distant  range 
of  snow  mountains  shone  out  with  sunset  full  upon 
th^m,  perfectly  golden.  It  would  have  suited  John 
Bunyan  ;  you  know  what  those  visions  suggest,  as 
nothing  else  on  earth  ever  did  or  does  to  me.  Except 
the  lake  of  Sempach,  which  we  skirted,  there  was 
nothing  else  special  till  about  9.30,  when  E.  announced 
Pilatus  !  which  was  just  ahead,  delicately  outlined  in  the 
moonlight,  and  looking  very  spiritual  and  holy !  We 
went  to  the  Cygne  at  Lucerne ;  I  was  in  bed  at  eleven, 
and  slept  like  a  dormouse  for  eight  hours.  It  was 
delicious !  Fancy  our  not  having  been  undressed  since 
Monday  night!  When  I  awoke  I  looked  out  on  the 
most  glorious  morning  view  of  the  lake  and  mountains. 
Last  week  there  was  rain  and  snow  here  ;  now  all  is  in 
perfection,  very  clear,  the  green  vivid  and  fresh,  water- 
falls full,  and  all  the  near  mountains  with  extra  snow, 
Pilatus  all  capped  and  streaked,  and  looking  finer  than 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  109 

ever  in  consequence.  Again  boat  departure  was  just 
right,  9.30,  giving  us  time  to  get  money  changed,  etc. 
Our  sail  down  the  lake  was  simply  perfection,  and  we 
saw  the  Bernese  Alps,  Jungfrau,  and  all  as  distinctly  as 
possible  ;  you  remember  we  never  saw  them  at  all  in  1869. 
To  add  to  it,  a  school  came  on  board,  going  to  Fluellen 
for  a  treat,  and  struck  up  some  uncommonly  pretty 
Swiss  national  songs  in  three  parts  ;  and  seeing  our 
interest,  the  children  lent  us  their  books  to  follow  the 
words,  which  were  also  very  pretty.  The  effect  of  one 
in  particular  was  quite  upsetting,  it  was  so  sweet  and 
charming. 

You  remember  H.  C.  suggesting  a  "  lift "  on  the  steep 
side  of  the  Rigi.  Well,  they  have  outdone  him,  for 
they  have  actually  got  a  railway  to  the  very  top !  on  the 
Mont  Cenis  principle  of  a  toothed  line  in  the  centre, 
and  a  wheel  to  catch,  which  continually  locks  itself,  so 
that  the  carriages  cannot  fun  back,  but  regularly  climb 
up  ;  they  told  me  that  at  one  part,  which,  we  could  see, 
the  incline  is  actually  one  in  four ! 

We  omnibused  from  Fluellen  to  Altdorf,  being  a  hot 
flat  two  miles,  and  then  sent  on  our  bags  by  diligence, 
and  walked  up  the  valley. 

N.B. — I  am  writing  now  at  Amsteg,  7.30  P.M.  It  is 
grander  at  every  turn  all  the  nine  miles,  and  we  are  so 
glad  we  walked  it ;  don't  fancy  we  overdid  it,  for  we 
took  six  hours,  resting  two  hours  half  way,  besides 
shorter  rests  ;  and  this  Swiss  air  is  atmospheric  salvola- 
tile.  We  dined  half  way  at  a  tiny  village  quite 
unknown  to  guidebooks,  and  the  affair  was  charming. 
A  nice  gril  of  twenty  waited  on  us,  but  thought  it  part 
of  her  duty  to  entertain  us,  and  came  and  sat  down  all 


SWISS  LETTERS. 


the  time,  making  herself  most  agreeable.  "  Yes,  plenty 
of  English  passed  by,  but  none  ever  stayed  there." 
She  was  greatly  entertained  with  us  evidently,  and 
watched  everything  like  a  child.  She  and  a  younger 
sister  had  never  seen  india-rubber  bands,  and  were  quite 
delighted  when  I  gave  them  a  few.  E.  gave  them  some 
Gospels,  and  they  promised  to  read  them. 

July  i.  We  were  in  bed  at  nine  last  night  and  up 
at  five  this  morning,  and  off  a  little  before  seven.  Morn- 
ing superb,  and  the  pass  just  magnificent  ;  we  took  it 
easy  and  did  not  get  over  the  seven  miles  to  Wasen  till 
nearly  noon.  But  then  how  could  we  hurry?  There 
were  gorges  to  look  up,  and  high  bridges  to  look  down, 
and  snow  summits  through  every  opening,  and  light 
and  shadows  playing  over  all.  Not  having  cut  out  too 
much  work  for  to-day  we  had  time  to  take  any  number 
of  mental  photographs.  At  Wasen  we  went  to  the  inn, 
a  real  Swiss  one,  and  dined  at  11.45  on  c°ld  kid  and 
ham  and  Italian  wine,  and  were  charged  tenpence  each. 
(I  will  always  quote  English  money).  Though  Bel- 
fort  is  obviously  the  most  direct  route  to  Switzerland, 
it  must  be  rarely  used  by  English,  for  at  the  station  we 
had  coffee,  eggs,  and  ablutions,  for  tenpence  each,  and  a 
dinner  of  cold  beef  for  elevenpence  each.  Our  whole 
expenses  from  London  to  Wasen  have  not  been  ^£5 
apiece,  and  here  we  are  in  the  very  heart  of  Switzer- 
land. Yet  we  have  had  everything  we  wanted,  and  the 
only  difference  is  that  we  are  waited  on  by  the  most 
obliging  Swiss  girls  at  these  small  inns,  instead  of  by 
napkined  waiters  at  the  great  noisy  grand  hotels. 

Amsteg,  where  we  slept,  is  most  picturesque,  at  the 


LETTERS  IN  1871. 


junction  of  the  Maderanen  Thai  with  this  grand  pass, 
but  we  did  not  get  a  good  night  owing  to  the  roar  of  the 
Reuss,  which  equals  that  dreadful  Arve  at  Chamouni  for 
noise,  and  I  dislike  this  as  much  as  I  did  in  1869,  and 
am  longing  to  get  up  above  it.  We  are  now  camped  out. 
It  is  very  hot,  and  E.  is  gone  a  little  way  from  me,  I 
think  sketching.  E.  is  an  unexceptionable  companion 
for  me,  and  we  agree  precisely  in  all  our  ways  and 
fancies  in  this  expedition.  Tell  H.  C.  the  hay  is  being 
cut,  and  it  is  the  fashion  here  to  set  it  up  in  most  queer 
cocks  about  six  feet  high  and  two  broad  ;  they  are  put 
on  stakes  with  four  cross-bars,  rather  crooked  and  not 
at  any  particular  angle  to  each  other,  so  it  seems  to 
stick  and  let  the  wind  blow  through  it  most  "con- 
vanient." 

7.45  P.M.  Geschenen.  Here  we  are  in  immense 
clover!  Soon  after  we  moved  on  from  our  camp,  a 
storm  came  grandly  down  the  valley  ;  we  took  refuge  in 
the  outside  gallery  of  a  chalet,  and  watched  it  in  com- 
fort. It  was  so  fine  to  see  it  rush  past  and  leave  us  in 
the  sunshine,  while  it  swept  like  great  dusky  wings 
down  the  pass.  We  soon  got  on  to  this  place,  which  is 
ideal,  of  a  different  kind  to  the  exquisite  loveliness  of 
the  lower  part  of  the  pass.  It  is  a  wee  village,  shut  in 
by  the  wildest,  most  savage-looking  heights,  mostly 
topped  with  snow,  awful  rocks  and  a  great  avalanche 
gorge  on  one  side,  a  wild  valley  narrow  and  solemn  on 
the  other,  shut  in  at  the  end  by  what  looks  like  a  very 
large  glacier,  which  they  say  no  one  has  ever  yet 
crossed.  We  are  close  to  a  bridge  over  a  very  deep  and 
narrow  gorge,  and  about  a  hundred  yards  off  can  get 
back  into  the  great  St.  Gothard  pass,  which  is  very 


H2  S WISS  LE  TTERS. 

grand  both  up  and  down.  And  here  we  are  going  to 
spend  Sunday!  Don't  think  us  heathens,  but  we  could 
not  possibly  get  to  an  English  service  to-morrow,  and  I 
really  think  it  will  be  as  good  as  going  to  church  just 
for  once !  Our  inn  is  very  simple,  but  spotless  ;  the 
host  is  very  young  and  very  eager  to  oblige  ;  and  the 
hostess  must  have  taste,  to  judge  by  the  way  she  has  set 
off  the  deal  furniture  with  pretty  white  netting  and 
crochet.  We  are  the  only  visitors  in  the  place,  and  con- 
sequently receive  the  utmost  attention. 

We  are  three  thousand  five  hundred  feet  high  here, 
having  risen  nearly  two  thousand  feet  in  our  nine  miles' 
walk  yesterday,  but  we  are  not  at  all  tired,  and  having 
Sunday  to  rest  we  are  planning  greater  things  for  next 
week.  We  are  quite  early  enough  ;  the  diligence  only 
ran  to-day  for  the  first  time  over  the  Furca  pass,  there 
was  so  much  snow  ;  and  now  it  is  so  warm  I  am  thank- 
ful for  cool  attire. 

Monday,  11.45  A-M-  Hurrah!  Seven  thousand 
eight  hundred  feet  high,  and  going  to  stay  all  the 
afternoon  and  night  here !  E.  and  I  are  quite  shocked 
at  our  giddy  and  exhilarated  state  of  mind.  We  feel 
just  like  children,  and  except  a  little  undercurrent  of 
general  thanksgiving,  we  don't  feel  solemn  at  all,  and 
have  been  in  the  wildest  spirits,  especially  since  we  got 
over  seven  thousand  feet  level.  But  I  go  back  to 
yesterday  ;  it  was  the  very  perfection  of  a  day,  clear 
sunshine  with  enough  cloud  floating  about  to  give  most 
satisfactory  effects,  the  temperature  delicious.  E.  and  I 
strolled  up  a  valley  finished  up  with  a  weird-looking, 
half-veiled,  and  very  precipitous  glacier,  made  ourselves 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  113 

cosy  nests  among  boulders  and  moss,  and  had  a  small 
service  on  our  own  account,  after  which  we  separated 
for  the  rest  of  the  morning,  coming  back  to  dinner 
at  three. 

Geschenen  is  the  most  picturesque  place  I  ever  stayed 
at,  four  gorges  opening  from  it,  and  most  emphatically 
gorgeous  as  to  scenery.  Our  hosts  are  so  devoted  to  us 
that  we  might  be  personal  friends  paying  a  visit !  Our 
bill  from  Saturday  afternoon  to  Monday  morning,  be- 
ginning with  a  meat  supper  and  including  quite  a  good 
Sunday  dinner  of  trout  and  beef,  was  altogether  14^.  4^. 
for  both  of  us.  We  generally  only  have  one  course, 
which  saves  time  as  well  as  money. 


LETTER  III. 

FURCA  PASS  (7,800  feet).     Monday, 

July  $d,  1871.     6  P.M. 

We  have  had  a  real  proper  day,  and  finished  up  by 
having  to  get  into  bed  (while  sundry  garments  are  dried), 
where  I  am  now  writing!  After  yesterday's  rest  we 
started  this  morning  at  5.30,  having  sent  on  our  bags  to 
Viesch,  carrying  our  few  necessaries.  We  walked  the 
five  miles  and  a  half  by  7.30.  The  pass  from  Geschenen 
to  Andermatt  is  savage  and  grand  beyond  description  ; 
the  Reuss  is  a  succession  of  cataracts,  so  that  any  fifty 
yards  of  it  would  make  the  fortune  of  any  English 
place.  The  Devil's  Bridge  is  simply  awful,  rocks  tre- 
mendous and  overhanging,  the  depths  below  grim  and 
terrible,  and  the  river  coming  down  in  furious  leaps. 
8 


j  I4  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

The  road  is  marvellous  engineering ;  in  one  place  it 
is  strongly  roofed  over  to  protect  it  from  avalanches. 
The  weather  was  quite  suitable,  stormy  and  gusty,  with 
sudden  and  fitful  gleams  of  light  breaking  through  wild 
grey  clouds.  We  had  a  foretaste  of  climbing,  for  we 
made  various  interesting  short  cuts,  and  were  just  in  time 
at  Andermatt  (4,500  feet)  to  catch  the  diligence  for  the 
Furca. 

This  road  was  only  opened  last  summer,  and  most  of 
the  way  lay  along  the  edge  of  precipices  ;  and  the  latter 
part  had  been  injured  by  avalanches,  and  was  cleared 
out  between  walls  of  snow.  You  can  hardly  imagine 
the  wildness  of  the  place,  utter  desolation  of  snow  and 
rocks  all  round,  and  grey  depths  to  peer  down  into  ;  the 
Rhone  valley  in  front  and  the  wild  pass  behind,  the 
most  utter  contrast  to  the  rich  magnificence  of  our  walk 
from  Amsteg. 

The  inn  here  was  very  small,  but  is  being  enlarged. 
We  have  a  very  comfortable  little  room  with  a  table  and 
sofa,  and  are  royally  lodged,  for  here  the  Queen  slept 
when  she  was  in  Switzerland,  in  this  very  room ! 

Hitherto,  being  the  only  English,  we  have  been  taken 
into  the  best  rooms  at  once.  After  a  good  feed  at  11.45 
we  both  went  sound  asleep,  and  awoke  up  quite  fresh  at 
two.  It  looked  tolerably  fine,  so  we  took  a  guide  (which 
is  absolutely  necessary)  up  the  Furca-horn,  a  peak  just 
above.  It  was  the  best  climb  I  ever  had,  beat  our  Pierre 
£  1'Echelle  experience.  There  is  no  vestige  of  a  track, 
and  most  queer  places  and  snow  slopes  to  cross  ;  the 
latter  were  most  entertaining.  The  guide  went  first, 
feeling  every  step  lest  he  should  get  a  plunge  ;  we  fol- 
lowing exactly  in  each  step,  occasionally  up  to  our  knees. 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  115 

I  enjoyed  the  scramble  exceedingly,  and  got  on  capitally. 
The  view  was  sublime,  nearly  a  panorama  of  the  very 
wildest  Alpine  scenery,  and  the  Galenstock,  a  lovely 
shaped  peak  of  11,000  feet  just  above  us,  the  Rhone 
glacier  deep  below,  and  on  the  other  side  the  Maien- 
wand,  an  awful  precipice,  at  the  top  of  which,  in  a  dip, 
is  the  Todten  See  (lake  of  the  dead)  ;  the  Grimsel,  and 
Zitterhorn,  and  Finsteraarhorn  beyond.  But  we  only 
stayed  a  few  minutes,  for  most  awful-looking  clouds 
were  gathering  and  we  heard  distant  thunder.  It  soon 
began  to  sleet  violently,  and  our  guide  took  us  down  a 
longer  way,  but  safer  for  descent,  in  a  cloud  which  rushed 
up  and  enwrapped  us.  I  was  not  sorry  when  we  got 
down  safe  and  sound.  We  enjoyed  some  coffee,  and  I 
am  .now  writing  most  luxuriously  in  bed.  It  is  snowing 
and  raining  alternately  most  furiously,  but  this  is  a 
pleasing  variety  in  our  experience !  They  are  closing 
the  outside  shutters  of  three  of  our  windows,  as  it  will 
probably  be  a  rough  night ;  the  other  window  is  shel- 
tered and  can  be  left  for  light.  Have  we  not  speedily 
got  into  the  real  thing  ? 

The  Alpine  flowers  have  had  the  boldness  to  come 
out  actually  right  among  the  snow  ;  wherever  a  patch  is 
thawed  there  they  are,  forget-me-nots  and  gentians,  and 
most  lovely  lilac  and  yellow  anemones,  both  all  fringed 
and  furred  with  curious  soft  hair ;  also  some  tiny  bells 
of  delicate  mauve,  the  prettiest  little  things  imaginable. 
These  and  the  anemones  are  true  ice  flowers,  the  guide 
said,  growing  where  not  a  blade  of  grass  has  started  yet. 

I  have  been  reading  this  over  to  E.,  and  she  is  afraid 
I  shall  have  frightened  you  by  my  account  of  to-day, 
and  that  you  "  will  be  sending  some  one  to  look  after 


SWISS  LETTEXS. 


us !  "  This  would  be  an  undesirable  arrangement,  a«. 
we  don't  wish  to  have  any  one  to  look  after  !  Serious- 
ly, however,  I  do  not  consider  we  have  done  anything 
dangerous,  and  I  mean  to  keep  the  promise  I  made  to 
that  effect. 

At  the  ^Eggischhorn  Hotel,  7,372  feet  high. 
Wednesday,  July  5.     3P.M. 

Yesterday  morning  the  storm  was  past,  but  the  Furca 
was  all  in  a  cloud,  so  though  'we  were  up  at  5.30  we 
did  not  start  down  till  8.30,  when  it  cleared  rapidly  and 
the  rest  of  the  day  was  bright.  The  first  six  miles  took 
us  close  by  the  side  and  to  the  foot  of  the  Rhone 
glacier,  which  is  an  enormous  precipice  of  icebergs, 
with  a  comparatively  flat  foot  beneath.  We  had 
what  the  aborigines  call  dinner  at  11.30,  then  we  strolled 
on  about  another  six  miles  down  the  Rhone  valley.  As 
we  got  down  to  about  4,400  feet  the  hay  region  begins. 
It  looked  beautiful,  but  will  not  be  ready  to  cut  for  a 
fortnight.  It  seems  more  than  half  flowers,.but  they  say 
that  is  good  for  the  cattle.  In  the  afternoon  we  got 
some  goat's  milk,  which  is  horrid  stuff,  but  very  refresh- 
ing. 

We  arranged  to  reach  Obergesteln  about  three,  for 
the  diligence  to  Viesch  (twelve  miles),  but  a  'cute  Swiss 
waylaid  us,  and  proposed  taking  us  in  a  little  carriage, 
which  would  be  much  pleasanter.  I  had  some  misgiv- 
ings as  to  whether  it  might  be  anything  in  the  same 
style  as  our  spree  at  Novelles,  (tell  H.  C.,)  inasmuch  as 
the  man  candidly  owned  it  would  take  him  an  hour  to 
catch  his  horse,  which  was  "somewhere"  on  the  other 
side  of  the  valley  "  at  play."  We  were  in  no  hurry,  and 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  117 


the  view  was  pretty,  so  we  waited  for  him  and  trusted  ! 
It  turned  out  to  be  quite  a  nice  little  carriage,  with  a 
most  lively  horse,  and  H.  C.  would  have  appreciated 
the  driving,  which  was  like  the  spin  we  had  down  from 
Chamouni  to  St.  Gervais.  The  drive  was  delicious, 
and  the  evening  lovely.  Viesch  lies  in  a  charming  hol- 
low, just  below  the  Viescher  glacier  and  the  Viescher- 
horner,  which  are  over  12,000  feet.  Its  own  level  is 
2,800,  so  we  had  descended  5,000  feet  in  the  day.  Our 
bags  were  waiting  for  us  as  usual ;  sending  them  on  by 
"  post "  is  most  convenient,  and  saves  all  trouble  and 
porterage  ;  the  average  expense  is  about  tenpence  a  day. 
The  Viesch  hotel  is  primitive,  and  the  maid  scam- 
pered out  to  fill  our  ewers  and  water  bottles  at  a  gen- 
eral village  spring  and  large  trough  formed  of  half  a 
hollow  tree.  The  morning  was  lovely,  and  we  were  up 
before  four,  and  off  at  5.15  for  the  ^Eggischhorn,  and 
by  5.30  the  sun  was  over  the  shoulder  of  the  opposite 
mountain,  and  struck  us  with  such  power  we  were  glad 
to  get  into  the  pine  woods  and  be  sheltered.  This  was 
the  hardest  walk  we  ever  had  in  our  lives,  the  steepest 
possible  track  nearly  the  whole  way,  rising  straight  up 
to  7,372  feet.  It  took  us  exactly  four  hours,  including 
one-half  hour's  rest  and  several  odd  minutes'  halt.  We 
had  some  refreshment,  and  then  lay  down  and  went  fast 
asleep  for  two  hours  and  a  half,  waking  up  quite  jolly, 
and  as  if  we  had  had  another  night,  just  as  we  did  at  the 
Furca,  but  are  just  in  the  same  fix  as  there !  It  clouded 
over  when  half  way  up,  and  since  we  got  in  has  been 
raining  heavily,  just  clearing  suddenly  once,  giving  us 
a  grand  view  of  the  6ther  side  of  the  valley  entirely 
filled  up  with  rolling  grey  clouds  far  below  us.  So  we 


1 18  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

have  no  alternative  but  to  take  a  day's  rest,  a  day  in 
the  ordinary  sense,  as  we  had  got  here  at  9.15,  but  we 
had  done  enough  for  one  day  before  that,  for  though 
not  seven  miles  of  actual  distance,  it  is  more  real  work 
than  over  twelve  down  hill  yesterday.  We  shall  not 
get  our  letters  till  Tuesday,  and  shall  have  been  a  fort- 
night entirely  cut  off  from  communication ;  but  we  find 
it  so  much  best  to  plan  only  a  day  in  advance  ;  the  local 
information  we  get  as  to  what  is  before  us  is  much  bet- 
ter than  guidebooks,  and  we  can  also  do  more  or  less 
as  we  feel  inclined. 

We  have  not  come  in  contact  with  a  single  English 
tourist,  nor  heard  a  word  of  English  yet.  The  winter 
on  the  Furca  would  be  too  lonely  even  for  us  ;  they  say 
two  men  and  a  big  dog  stay  up  there  all  the  seven 
months'  winter,  and  only  come  down  once  -or  twice,  so 
that  they  are  often  three  months  without  seeing  any  liv- 
ing thing,  except  hares,  which  sometimes  stray  over. 
On  the  St.  Gothard  pass,  which  is  nol  nearly  so  high, 
there  is  regular  sledge  traffic  all  the  winter,  and  men 
constantly  employed  to  keep  a  track  open. 

In  coming  down  from  the  Furca  we  passed  in  many 
places  between  great  walls  of  snow  through  which  the 
road  had  been  cut ;  in  one  place  the  wall  was  at  least 
fifteen  feet  deep. 

I  find  letters  are  going  to  be  sent  at  5.30,  but  I  pity 
the  bearer,  for  we  are  in  a  dense  fog,  and  we  see  no  sign 
of  clearing  for  to-night. 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  119 


LETTER  IV. 

July  7,  4.30  P.M.  "  Sitting  on  the 
rocks  above  the  Bel  Alp  Hotel, 
about  7,500  feet  high. 

Hitherto  we  have  gone  on  in  a  grand  crescendo,  and 
have  not  finished  it  yet.  Yesterday,  Thursday,  we 
jumped  up  at  four  A.M.  for  the  sunrise,  but  seeing  noth- 
ing but  fog  retired  again.  From  six  to  ten  it  was  great 
excitement  to  watch  the  cloud  possibilities.  They 
seemed  to  be  going  head  over  heels  just  below  us,  whirl- 
ing and  drifting  and  breaking  and  closing  in  the  most 
chaotic  way,  in  every  shade  of  grey  from  nearly  black  to 
dazzling  white.  Just  before  ten  they  rolled  off  altogeth- 
er, and  as  we  were  quite  ready  for  this  we  set  off  for 
the  yEggischhorn.  There  is  a  guide  here,  Fischer,  who 
is  famous,  and  the  best  in  the  district ;  but  he  was  pre- 
engaged  ;  however,  we  got  Alexander  Binner,  a  very 
fatherly  and  watchful  specimen,  quite  a  ladies'  guide. 
He  insisted  on  our  starting  slowly,  and  consulted  and 
patronised  us  in  general.  We  have  to  learn  by  experi- 
ence ;  we  thought  we  were  excellently  got  up  for  the 
work  by  wearing  waterproof  dresses  with  a  flannel  jacket 
underneath,  but  we  soon  found  it  necessary  to  peel,  and 
actually  went  up  in  our  petticoats !  You  can't  think 
how  hot  one  gets  in  climbing,  even  among  the  snow. 
A  little  way  up  we  heard  a  great  yell  (guides  here  make 
a  point  of  yelling  if  they  spy  one  a  mile  or  more  away), 
and  presently  we  met  a  young  Alpine  Clubbist,  whom 
E.  found  she  knew  by  name  as  a  distant  connection  of 
hers !  The  guides  rushed  at  each  other  most  affec- 


120  SWISS  LETTEKS. 

tionately,  and  to  my  delight  I  found  they  were  the 
celebrated  Ulrich  and  Christian  Lauener,  whom  I  have 
often  seen  mentioned  in  books.  The  young  fellow  had 
been  sleeping  with  them  in  the  cave  of  the  Faulberg,  in 
order  to  go  up  the  Jungfrau  at  two  A.M.,  but  the  fog 
prevented. 

I  cannot  in  conscience  say  I  kept  my  promise  that  day, 
because  in  one  sense  there  was  "  danger,"  for  had  we 
slipped  in  some  places  it  would  have  been  no  trifle  ;  but 
I  never  felt  giddy,  and  I  have  a  sure  foot  I  am  certain, 
and  never  feel  the  least  nervous.  Alexander  told  us 
after,  that  when  he  heard  we  were  new  to  real  mountain 
work  he  made  up  his  mind  we  could  not  reach  the  top, 
but  after  he  had  seen  us  get  over  the  first  snow  and  rocks 
he  was  quite  satisfied  !  Fischer  told  Alexander  I  "  went 
like  a  chamois,"  and  that  he  was  astonished  how  quickly 
and  easily  I  got  up  a  very  difficult  climb  where  he 
watched  me  from  above.  I  tell  you  this  because  I 
always  had  an  instinct  that  I  should  find  myself  a  rath- 
er extra  good  climber  if  I  ever  had  the  chance  of  really 
proving  it.  The  "  P.  S.  G."  calls  it  "a  severe  climb  "  in 
any  case,  and  the  snow  makes  it  now  far  more  difficult 
and  interesting.  We  crossed  and  ascended  some  great 
snow  slopes  like  those  awful-looking  things  one  sees  in 
Swiss  photos  ;  one  crossing  was  quite  a  third  of  a  mile 
along  the  middle  of  a  slope  of  steep  unbroken  snow, 
about  six  hundred  feet  high.  The  guide  goes  first, 
treading  down  the  snow  over  soft  places,  and  we  follow 
exactly  in  his  track  ;  but  each  step  is  a  separate  business, 
you  stand  firm  and  take  time  to  plant  each  foot,  not  the 
least  like  walking,  and  as  long  as  one  does  this  there 
can  be  no  danger,  for  if  there  are  hidden  holes  the  guide 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  121 

of  course  tumbles  in  first,  and  we  stand  still  while  he 
gets  out  and  tries  for  a  better  footing.  E.  got  one  plunge 
into  soft  snow  up  to  her  waist,  but  that  sort  of  thing 
does  not  hurt,  and  getting  wet  is  no  consideration  at  all ! 
Near  the  top  it  is  very  precipitous,  and  we  climb  with 
hands  quite  as  much  as  feet. 

The  top  itself  is  9,649  feet  high,  and  commands  one 
of  the  very  finest  views  in  Switzerland.  You  look  sheer 
down  on  the  Aletsch,  the  largest  Swiss  glacier,  fifteen  or 
twenty  miles  long,  with  great  ice  tributaries.  Above  it, 
close  beyond,  N.  and  N.W.,  the  grandest  heights  of  the 
Oberland,  Aletschhorn,  Finsteraarhorn,  Jungfrau, 
Monch,  Eiger,  etc.  South-west  rise  the  Weisshorn  and 
the  Mischabel,  a  many-peaked  giant  and  the  highest  Swiss 
mountain,  and  between  them,  quite  lonely  and  most 
grim-looking,  the  Matterhorn.  South-east  lies  the  whole 
Rhone  valley,  bounded  by  Monte  Leone,  a  superb  snow 
ridge,  and  other  half  Italian  mountains.  The  St.  Gothard 
range  follow,  and  the  Viescherhorner  quite  near,  and  be- 
tween 12,000  and  13,000  feet  high,  fill  up  the  circle. 
Just  imagine !  Col  de  Balm  is  nowhere  compared  to 
this !  We  stayed  an  hour  on  the  top  in  brilliant  sun- 
shine, seeing  the  view  as  favourably  as  possible  short  of 
a  sunrise,  and  devoured  hard-boiled  eggs,  red  wine,  and 
bread  enough  to  last  one  a  week  at  home.  Of  course  we 
were  in  an  awful  pickle  when  we  got  down,  about  3.30, 
and  went  to  bed  and  to  sleep  while  our  clothes  dried ! 
For  the  first  time  we  went  to  table  de  hole,  and  were 
lucky,  for  there  were  only  two  besides  ourselves,  and 
they  Alpine  Club  men,  and  it  was  as  good  as  a  book  to 
hear  them.  E.'s  friend  had  such  an  escape  two  days 
before,  that  even  Lauener  turned  white ;  the  largest 


122  SWISS  LETTERS. 

avalanche  the  guides  ever  saw,  four  hundred  feet  wide, 
came  upon  them  "like  a  flash"  ;  they  saw  it,  and  were 
just  in  time  to  clear  it ;  in  three  seconds  it  was  at  rest, 
1,500  feet  below.  He  said  "  one  half  minute  later  on 
the  path,  and  they  must  have  been  all  killed." 

In  the  evening  we  strolled  out  and  saw  an  exquisite 
sunset ;  Weisshorn  and  Mischabel  especially  splendid  in 
golden  rose  light,  not  the  least  speck  of  cloud,  and  the 
sky  all  flushed  with  wonderful  tints  like  an  aurora.  You 
can't  see  these  things  unless  you  sleep  up  high  ;  the  finest 
valley  sunset  is  quite  a  different  article. 

July  8. — Yesterday  we  were  greatly  disgusted  at  over- 
sleeping ourselves,  so  that  we  started  at  six  instead  of 
four  A.M.  We  got  Fischer  for  this  walk,  one  of  the 
noted  guides ;  such  a  nice  fellow,  has  been  up  the 
Jungfrau  seventeen  times,  five  times  in  one  summer. 
Though  it  was  a  good  five  hours'  walk  to  Bel  Alp,  not 
counting  any  stoppages,  we  were  not  at  all  tired,  it  was 
so  delightful.  The  first  two  hours  lay  through  the  high 
summer  pastures,  and  we  passed  some  fine  herds  of 
lovely  cows,  so  much  prettier  I  think  than  ours,  espe- 
cially those  which  look  like  soft  fawn-coloured  satin  ;  all 
had  bells  of  course.  -We  stopped  at  a  chalet  on  the 
Riederalp,  and  had  milk,  rich  and  sweet,  and  Alpine 
strawberries.  Then  we  crossed  the  ridge  between  the 
Rhone  valley  and  the  Aletsch,  and  had  a  long  descent 
to  the  glacier  through  pine  woods  with  little  glades  and 
vistas,  and  no  end  of  flowers  and  perfect  peeps  of  the 
snow  mountains.  It  was  too  good  to  hurry  through,  so 
we  sat  down,  and  Fischer  sang  us  a  Swiss  song  with 
jodeln  ad  lib.  I  got  him  to  dictate  me  the  words,  and 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  123 

then  I  learnt  the  tune  ;  the  "  jodeln  "  is  harder  than 
Handel,  and  most  awkward  to  get  into.  The  glacier 
was  absurdly  easy  to  cross,  being  rough  and  dirty,  and 
we  did  not  even  go  near  any  big  crevasses.  The  last 
hour  was  more  fatiguing  than  all  the  rest  together,  as  it 
was  fearfully  hot,  and  a  very  steep  shadeless  path  up  the 
sunny  side  of  the  glacier  bank  ;  so  we  rested  repeatedly, 
but  got  to  Bel  Alp  at  noon. 

To  give  you  an  idea  of  the  sun's  power  among  the 
snow  :  I  went  up  the  ^Eggischhorn  without  gloves,  this 
gives  a  firmer  grasp  of  the  alpenstock  ;  but  it  resulted 
in  my  right  hand  being  so  burnt  that  I  have  worn  a  wet 
handkerchief  on  it  for  two  days  ;  it  is  just  as  if  it  were 
badly  scalded.  What  niggers  we  shall  be  in  complexion 
when  we  come  home ! 

Bel  Alp  is  after  the  fashion  of  the  Rigi,  only  more 
than  two  thousand  feet  higher,  and  snow  peaks  are  much 
nearer,  indeed  close.  People  pension  here  a  good  deal. 
Summer  chalets  are  dotted  about  all  round  ;  there  are 
plenty  of  cows,  and  to  my  great  entertainment  goats, 
who  climb  most  charmingly  among  the  rocky  bits  be- 
hind the  hotel.  Again  we  had  a  lovely  sunset,  and  the 
whole  day  not  one  speck  of  cloud  ;  it  is  very  hot  by 
day,  but  gets  deliciously  cool  and  refreshing  at  night. 

To-day,  July  8,  has  been  the  best  of  all !  We  had 
secured  Anton  Walden,  the  best  guide  here,  for  the 
Sparrenhorn,  which  is  nearly  ten  thousand  feet  high, 
right  above  the  hotel.  Another  lady,  a  Miss  Anstey, 
wished  to  join  us  ;  her  mother,  an  energetic  elderly 
lady,  up  to  a  good  deal,  but  not  to  this,  making  a  great 
favour  of  it,  as  she  was  so  very  glad  for  her  daughter  to 
have  the  opportunity.  So  we  chummed,  and  made  all 


1 24  .5  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

arrangements  overnight,  ordering  coffee  at  3.30  A.M. 
We  made  our  actual  start  at  3.54.  Now  I  have  seen  it 
at  last,  a  real  Alpine  dawn  and  sunrise  to  perfection  ! 
When  we  came  out  we  saw  the  "  daffodil  sky  "  which 
Tyndall  describes,  in  the  east,  a  calm  glory  of  expectant 
light,  as  if  something  positively  celestial  must  come 
next,  instead  of  merely  the  usual  sun.  In  the  south- 
west, the  grandest  mountains  stood  white  and  perfectly 
clear,  as  if  they  might  be  waiting  for  the  resurrection, 
with  the  moon  shining  pale  and  yet  radiant  over  them, 
the  deep  Rhone  valley  dark  and  gravelike  in  contrast 
below.  As  we  got  higher  the  first  roseflush  struck  the 
Mischabel,  and  then  Weisshorn  and  Monte  Leone  came 
to  life  too  ;  real  rose,  with  something  you  had  to  per- 
suade yourself  was  rose  colour,  only  it  was  rose-fire, 
delicate  yet  intense.  The  Weisshorn  was  in  its  full 
glory,  looking  more  perfectly  lovely  than  any  earthly 
thing  I  ever  yet  saw,  when  the  tip  of  the  Matterhorn 
caught  the  red  light  on  its  evil-looking  rock  peak.  It 
was  just  like  a  volcano,  and  looked  rather  awful  than 
lovely,  and  gave  me  the  impression  of  an  evil  angel  irn- 
potently  wrathful,  shrinking  away  from  the  serene  glory 
and  utter  purity  of  a  holy  angel  which  that  Weisshorn 
at  dawn  might  represent  if  anything  earthly  could. 

The  eastern  ridges  were  almost  jet,  in  front  of  the 
great  golden  glow  into  which  the  "  daffodil  sky  "  height- 
ened. By  4.30  it  was  all  over,  for  as  soon  as  the  sun 
was  up  the  colouring  all  changed  to  ordinary  daylight 
hues,  and  thenceforth  we  devoted  ourselves  to  getting 
up  the  Sparrenhorn  and  that  alone  !  I  think  one  can- 
not take  in  overmuch  beauty  at  once  ;  I  hardly  looked 
at  anything  for  a  long  time  after  this  great  dawn 
splendour  was  over. 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  125 

Now  we  found  the  practical  advantage  of  starting 
early.  The  Sparrenhorn  is  a  little  farther,  a  little  higher, 
and  a  little  more  difficult  than  the  ^Eggischhorn,  and  yet 
we  did  it  in  about  the  same  time,  with  much  less  fatigue, 
and  without  getting  into  any  pickle  as  to  raiment.  For 
the  snow  was  quite  hard  frozen,  and,  being  very  uneven, 
was  quite  easy  walking,  except  when  very  steep,  and 
then  Walden  picked  out  little  steps  with  his  ice-axe 
almost  as  fast  as  we  cared  to  mount  them.  Coming 
down  I  had  the  felicity  of  two  real  good  glissades,  which 
were  immense  fun,  besides  some  sliding.  One  glissade 
I  did  quite  alone  ;  the  other  was  a  capital  long  one  with 
Walden's  hand,  and  it  was  such  fun,  he  caught  his  foot 
and  was  all  but  down,  and  I  held  him  up  ;  he  laughed 
no  end  at  this,  and  gave  me  full  credit  for  it.  The  view 
from  the  top  was  much  the  same  style  as  from  the 
^Eggischhorn,  not  so  panoramic,  but  very  fine.  There 
was  plenty  of  rock  climbing,  quite  to  my  mind.  Miss 
Anstey  is  sister  of  an  Alpine  Clubbist,  and  seems  very 
strong  and  up  to  mountaineering ;  but  E.  and  I  agree 
that  we  have  no  personal  acquaintance,  at  least  in  the 
lady  line,  who  would  do  to  make  a  third  with  us,  all 
things  considered  !  However,  no  one  can  judge  of  what 
they  can  do  here  by  what  they  can  do  in  England,  as 
to  strength.  We  got  to  the  top  at  6.30,  and  were  down 
again  by  8.45,  just  as  most  of  the  folks  here  were  break- 
fasting. 

I  fully  meant  to  go  to  sleep  all  the  morning,  but  did 
not  feel  the  least  tired  or  sleepy,  only  a  little  stiff ;  so  I 
have  had  a  general  lazy  day  out  of  doors  by  myself,  get- 
ting flowers,  reading  and  writing,  and  have  postponed 
my  lying  down  till  after  dinner. 


1 26  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

I  had  some  little  talks  with  Anton  Walden,  who  is 
superior  and  intelligent.  In  response  to  some  remark, 
he  quoted  averse  from  Hebrews  to  my  surprise.  He  ex- 
plained this  by  telling  me  that  an  English  lady  visitor 
here  had  sent  him  a  beautiful  New  Testament ;  "  it  is 
forbidden  to  read  it,  but  I  read  it  nevertheless."  I  told 
him  I  did  not  know  it  was  forbidden  in  Switzerland. 
"  Oh,  yes!  "  he  said,  "it  is  entirely  forbidden.  The  one 
end1  and  aim  of  the  priests  here  is  to  keep  the  people  in 
stupidity  and  ignorance,  so  that  they  may  do  what  they 
like  with  them.  They  cannot  bear  that  any  one  should 
read  the  New  Testament  for  themselves,  they  know 
that  would  not  do  ;  but  there  are  a  few  free  spirits 
among  us  who  read  notwithstanding."  I  spoke  to  him 
about  asking  for  the  Holy  Spirit  to  teach  one  whenever 
one  read  the  Testament  (which  is  all  he  has),  and  he 
said  :  "Yes!  that  was  just  what  he  thought  too  ;  he 
had  found  that  out  of  his  book,  and  had  prayed  for  the 
Holy  Spirit."  Was  it  not  nice  ? 

This  hotel  is  the  best  placed  I  ever  saw,  it  is  corner- 
wise  somehow,  so  that  every  window  commands  a  fair 
view  of  something  fine  ;  we  have  a  corner  room  with 
windows  looking  two  ways,  both  beautiful.  It  will  be  a 
delightful  place  for  Sunday.  There  is  a  chaplain,  Rev. 
Mr.  Phillips  and  Mrs.  P.  ;  but  I  am  disappointed  to  find 
that  he  is  not  C.  C.  C.  S.  There  are  about  fifteen  peo- 
ple in  the  house,  not  more,  it  is  such  a  late  season. 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  127 


LETTER    V. 

HOTEL  DBS  ALPS,  ZERMATT,  July  n. 

...tin  always  comes  conveniently  for  us!  So  now 
having  got  here  all  right  without  a  drop  this  morning, 
and  being  comfortably  housed  entirely  to  our  mind,  it 
is  raining  furiously,  and  the  edges  of  the  clouds  are,  I 
think,  literally  not  more  than  twenty  yards  off,  up  the 
mountain  side.  You  wished  that  "the  Angel  might  go 
before  us,"  and  certainly  the  prayer  seems  to  have  been 
answered,  for  anything  more  entirely  hitch-less  than  our 
whole  progress  has  been  could  not  possibly  be  ;  even 
the  little  bad  weather  we  have  had  always  comes  when 
it  is  rather  agreeable  than  otherwise,  and  it  is  quite  ex- 
traordinary how  every  little  decision  as  to  where  or  how 
or  when  to  go,  or  do  anything,  invariably  turns  out  to 
to  be  apparently  the  best  and  pleasantest  we  could  have 
done  :  really  far  too  uniformly  so  for  us  to  attribute  it 
to  anything  but  the  "  good  hand  of  our  God  upon  us." 
The  Furca-horn  adventure  was  the  only  seeming  excep- 
tion, and  that  was  rather  fun  after  all . 

Sunday  at  Bel  Alp  was  splendid :  quite  different 
mountain  effects,  grand  but  distant  tempest  clouds 
massed  in  great  castles  and  towers  and  peaks  over  and 
among  the  mountains,  always  giving  more  grandeur  and 
beauty  than  they  ever  hid,  while  all  continued  serene 
and  sunny  at  Bel  Alp  till  quite  late  evening,  and  de- 
liciously  warm  without  being  oppressive.  About  nine 
P.M.  a  thunderstorm  came  over,  which  laid  the  dust 
and  cooled  the  air  for  Monday's  hot  transit  over  the 
Rhone  valley,  and  ensured  a  brilliant  morning. 


128  SWISS  LETTERS. 

The  services  were  the  most  rapid  I  ever  was  at,  just 
one  hour  and  twenty-five  minutes  in  the  morning,  in- 
cluding sermon  and  Communion,  and  forty  minutes  in 
the  evening,  including  sermon.  Rev.  J.  E.  P.,  of  W., 
gave  us  about  ten  minutes  of  commonplace  and  stiff 
sermons.  Mrs.  P.  chose  hymns,  very  nice  ones,  out  of 
S.  P.  C.  K.  :  "  How  sweet  the  name,"  and  such  like  ; 
went  the  round  of  the  few  ladies  in  the  hotel  to  get  some 
one  to  start  the  singing;  no  one  would,  and  she  came 
to  E.  last  of  all,  who  of  course  referred  her  to  me. 

Monday,  the  loth,  we  ordered  coffee  at  five,  but  did 
not  get  off  till  nearly  six,  which  we  now  consider  a  sadly 
late  start !  H.  C.  ought  to  come  to  Switzerland  again 
on  purpose  for  Bel  Alp,  it  combines  so  many  things. 
Beside  the  superb  views  and  excursions,  one  gets  such 
a  charming  bit  of  Swiss  pastoral  life.  The  hotel  stands 
alone,  with  grass  and  heather  and  flowers  all  round  ; 
and  dotted  all  about  beyond  are  numbers  of  the  summer 
chalets,  with  no  end  of  funny  little  children.  In  the 
middle  of  the  day  we  see  only  a  few  odd  cows  and  goats, 
but  in  the  evening  the  creatures  come  pouring  in  from 
the  bits  of  high  pasture  in  all  directions.  They  all  come 
of  themselves,  are  never  fetched,  and  never  miss  or  come 
late.  In  the  evenings  we  could  hardly  pay  attention  to 
anything  but  the  goats  ;  they  came  trooping  down  the 
rocks,  generally  gambolling,  and  most  amusing  in  their 
ways.  They  are  most  inquisitive  and  very  tame,  always 
came  up  to  look  at  us  in  a  most  comical  way,  and  often 
let  us  pat  and  play  with  them.  There  were  numbers  of 
pretty  little  kids  and  calves  too  ;  all  this  was  so  new  and 
amusing. 

Bel  Alp  is  the  best  place  I  have  yet  seen  for  com- 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  129 

bining  real  mountain  life  with  most  comfortable  accom- 
modation and  very  moderate  charges.  It  only  cost  us 
exactly  £i  each  for  three  whole  days,  including  wine 
and  everything  ;  we  were  quite  sorry  to  leave. 

We  walked  or  scrambled  all  the  way  down  to  Brieg, 
nearly  five  thousand  feet  lower ;  and  did  not  halt, 
unless  for  a  minute  to  look  at  a  view,  for  three  hours 
and  twenty-five  minutes,  and  were  not  a  bit  tired  ! . 
Then  we  indulged  in  diligence  six  miles  to  Visp,  an 
odious  place  in  spite  of  the  mountains  around,  all  marsh, 
and  flies,  and  heat,  and  malaria.  We  had  dinner  and  a 
short  rest,  and  then  walked  up  the  first  stage  of  the 
Zermatt  valley  to  Stalden,  about  five  miles  and  a  half,  a 
lovely  spot  at  the  junction  of  the  Zermatt  and  Saas 
valleys.  Here  we  had  coffee  and  rest  again,  and  I  got  H 
native  shoemaker  to  arm  my  boots  with  immense  rough 
square  Swiss  nails,  which  do  not  slip  either  on  ice  or 
steep  grass  slopes. 

We  intended  staying  the  night,  but  felt  so  very  lively 
that  we  actually  set  off  again  by  six  P.M.,  and  walked  to 
St.  Nicholas,  another  six  miles  and  a  half.  Altogether 
we  must  have  done  over  twenty  miles'  walking  in  the 
day.  Of  course  we  went  to  bed  when  we  got  in  at  8.15, 
but  I  did  not  feel  at  all  used  up,  and  we  walked  a  good 
seven  miles  this  morning  just  as  if  we  had  done  nothing. 
We  could  not  possibly  have  done  it  but  for  the  very  oppor- 
tune weather,  for  a  most  handy  thunderstorm  came  on 
while  we  dined  at  Visp,  which  cooled  the  air  ;  I  can  do 
nothing  in  heat,  but  almost  any  amount  if  cool.  Our 
long  early  walks  are  what  enable  us  to  get  over  the 
ground  so  well.  We  are  both  disappointed  with 
Zermatt  at  first  sight,  but  then  the  Matterhorn  and 
9 


130  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

Monte  Rosa  have  not  been  visible  yet.  We  took  a 
carriage  from  Ronda  after  our  early  walk,  so  as  to  get  in 
here  fresh,  and  speer  about  for  quarters  to  suit  our 
views,  which  we  soon  found.  "Hotel  des  Alpes "  is 
unpretending,  but  very  clean  ;  we  have  a  little  room 
each,  close  together,  deal  furniture,  but  all  new  and 
sufficient  ;  we  have  two  windows  each,  commanding 
three  different  looks-out,  and  are  higher  up  than  any 
other  hotel  here,  and  have  the  most  charming  Swiss 
waitress.  We  are  to  have  everything,  for  excursions  or 
not,  for  four  shillings  a  day  each,  and  we  thought  this 
was  to  be  the  dearest  place  of  all !  We  drank  some 
milk,  and  told  them  to  give  us  anything  they  liked  for 
dinner  at  one.  Whereupon  we  had  five  courses  all  to 
ourselves ;  we  told  them  three  would  do  in  future. 
(Oh  if  you  could  but  see  the  rain  !)  We  have  no  defi- 
nite plans,  as  we  cannot  cross  the  St.  Theodule  except 
in  settled  weather,  nor  do  the  Alice  Blanche,  but  we 
shall  call  for  letters  at  Aosta  not  later  than  the  2ist. 
E.'s  uncle  and  cousin  are  at  a  large  hotel  here  ;  they 
have  come  nearly  the  same  way  as  we  have,  but  their 
journey  has  been  a  succession  of  mishaps  and  the  most 
complete  contrast  to  ours,  yet  they  are  travelling  en 
grand  seigneur.  Their  story  made  us  realize  how  much 
we  have  to  be  thankful  for. 


LETTER  VI. 

July  13,  10  A.M.     Sitting  above  the 
Riffel  Hotel  (8,000  feet). 

I  am  intensely  hoping  Miss  Anstey  may  be  here  to- 
day (which  is  not  unlikely),  as,  if  so,  I  go  at  once  to  the 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  131 

very  top  of  all  my  Alpine  ambition.  She  and  I  are  wild  to 
go  up  the  Cima  di  Jazi,  13,000  feet !  and  yet  the  safest  in 
all  Switzerland  for  anything  that  height.  We  should 
sleep  at  a  chalet  two  hours  and  a  half  up,  for  the  ascent 
to  take  only  four  or  five  hours  in  the  morning.  E.  will 
not  attempt  it,  as  long  ascents  try  her  breath,  and  I  am 
not  so  demented  as  to  go  without  a  lady  companion,  so  if 
Miss  A.  does  not  turn  up  I  shall  resign  the  idea.  Wed- 
nesday was  too  doubtful  a  morning  for  any  serious 
excursion,  so  we  went  for  a  walk,  and  E.  turned  off  to 
call  on  her  uncle,  and  I  found  an  old  woman  knitting 
and  tending  goats  in  a  lovely  dingle,  so  I  sat  down  by 
her  and  read  out  of  the  German  Testament,  apparently 
to  her  intense  delight,  and  had  a  most  interesting  talk 
with  her.  After  that  I  had  nothing  particular  to  do  ; 
the  Corner  glacier  was  looking  most  bewitching,  hardly 
three  miles  off,  so  what  could  I  do  but  walk  towards  it 
and  to  it  ?  I  did  not  meet  a  living  soul,  and  enjoyed 
immensely  being  so  utterly  alone  in  a  most  wild  and 
beautiful  spot,  where  a  seemingly  full-grown  river  rushes 
mightily  out  of  a  great  dark-blue  ice  cave,  with  great  ice 
pinnacles  up  above,  and  the  full  catalogue  of  Alpine 
beauty  all  around. 

I  am  so  desperately  cautious,  that  being  alone  I  did 
not  attempt  to  go  upon  the  glacier  itself,  although  one 
part  looked  perfectly  safe  and  easy,  but  only  scrambled 
a  little  about  the  terminal  moraine.  I  gathered  a  white 
lily,  only  one,  most  lovely  and  lonely,  like  our  yellow 
garden  lilies.  Zermatt  is  in  a  different  zone  of  flowers  ; 
yellow  globe  flowers,  large  campanulas,  two  very  bright 
rock  pinks,  and  some  intense  crimson  rock  flowers  pre- 
ponderate. On  my  way  back  some  little  white  clouds, 


I32  SWISS  LETTERS. 

which  looked  far  too  innocent  to  be  hiding  anything, 
suddenly  broke  off,  and'there  was  the  Matterhorn  right 
above  ;  the  weirdest,  most  unreal-looking  spectre  of  a 
mountain  you  can  imagine.  It  is  unquestionably  the 
most  striking  single  object  I  ever  saw  or  expected  to  see. 
How  it  ever  entered  any  mortal  brain  to  think  of 
scaling  it  I  cannot  understand.  It  stands  quite  alone, 
no  connection  with  any  other  mountain  or  range,  and 
seems  not  simply  peaked  and  perpendicular,  but  actually 
to  hook  over.  Why  it  does  not  tumble  over  bodily 
seems  a  mystery. 

In  the  afternoon  we  took  a  horse  between  us  to  the 
Z'mutt  glacier,  the  path  thither  being  the  object  rather 
than  the  glacier,  which,  though  curious,  is  very  ugly, 
covered  with  reddish  stones.  It  took  us  about  four 
hours  and  a  half,  but  we  did  not  get  the  full  benefit  of 
our  nag,  as  the  path  was  so  atrocious  that  the  guide 
actually  did  not  lefus  ride  more  than  twenty  minutes  of 
the  way  back.  Part  of  it  was  so  narrow  that  two  people 
could  not  possibly  walk  abreast,  with  a  precipice  at  least 
a  thousand  feet  straight  down  from  the  edge.  But  it 
was  a  most  paying  excursion  as  to  beauty,  and  totally 
changed  our  ideas  of  Zermatt ;  it  is  considered  only  a 
second  rate  excursion  by  many,  and  yet  it  is  one  of  the 
very  finest  things  either  of  us  have  seen.  We  went  close 
under  one  side  of  the  Matterhorn,  which  looks  unique 
from  anywhere  ;  its  base  there  consists  of  extraordinary 
square-cut  snow  terraces,  one  above  another,  perfectly 
perpendicular.  We  waited  for  a  cow  to  be  milked  for 
our  benefit  at  a  pitch  dark  chalet,  where  the  poor  people 
live  without  either  window  or  chimney. 

This  morning  we  walked  up  here,  handing  our  water- 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  133 

proofs  and  knapsacks  halfway  to  a  luckily  met  baggage 
mule.  Every  ounce  seems  to  make  a  difference  to  my 
walking  powers  up  hill  ;  I  have  even  cut  up  my  "  Prac- 
tical Guide,"  and  carry  three  leaves  at  a  time  to  save 
weight.  Sometimes  we  catch  a  small  boy  and  charter 
him  to  carry  these  wretched  waterproofs,  which  are 
never  anything  between  an  unmitigated  nuisance  and  an 
absolute  necessity.  We  are  camped  out  now  for  the 
rest  of  the  morning  ;  there  are  patches  of  snow  round 
us,  but  the  sun  is  hot  and  the  air  fresh  and  delicious. 

Friday,  July  14,  8.30  A.M. — 10,200  feet  high  at  this 
moment!  on  the  Corner  Grat,  said  to  be  simply  "the 
finest  mountain  panorama  in  Europe  !  "  Not  many  let- 
ters are  dated  from  here,  I  fancy,  for  it  strikes  me  we 
are  doing  a  rather  original  thing  in  spending  a  morning 
and  writing  up  here. 

To  go  back  ;  yesterday  afternoon  we  merely  took  a ' 
general  scramble  to  see  what  we  could,  and  had  no  end 
of  fun  in  jumping  little  snow  torrents,  and  contriving 
how  to  get  across  melting  snow  and  round  snow  beds. 
You  can't  think  what  a  boy  I  feel ;  it  does  so  entirely 
occupy  my  mind  where  to  set  the  next  step  or  take  the 
next  jump  ;  no  need  to  tell  me  not  to  think  or  talk  ; 
why,  we  should  sprain  our  ankles  if  we  gave  our  minds 
for -two  minutes  to  anything.  Mr.  Snepp  wanted  me  to 
write  hymns,  but,  dear  me,  he  has  not  been  in  Switzer- 
land !  My  only  chance  for  that  would  be  if  we  got  en- 
tirely shut  up  in  the  clouds  for  two  or  three  days. 

We  made  all  arrangements  overnight  ;  our  guide  was 
to  call  us  (it  seems  to  be  the  guide's  duty,  not  at  all  the 
chambermaid's!)  if  it  was  fine,  not  otherwise.  We 


134  SWISS  LETTERS. 

ordered  coffee  soon  after  2.30  A.M.  They  were  not 
punctual,  and  we  had  the  aggravation  of  waiting  till  3.5 
before  we  could  get  fairly  off.  However,  we  had  the 
consolation  of  breakfasting  with  a  party  of  gentlemen 
starting  for  Cima  di  Jazi,  and  a  gentleman  who,  with 
two  guides,  was  off  for  Monte  Rosa.  There  was  a  faint 
clear  right  in  the  east,  and  the  snow  mountains  glim- 
mered like  ghosts;  but  otherwise  it  was  quite  dark, 
though  it  rapidly  brightened.  We  made  a  great  effort 
to  go  fast,  and  succeeded  in  gaining  the  first  Corner 
Grat  just  before  the  very  first  touch  of  rose  came.  It  is 
really  exciting  and  wonderful  and  thrilling,  beyond  al- 
most anything,  to  see  that  first  marvellous  rosefire  sud- 
denly light  up  peak  after  peak.  I  think  it  beats  the 
Hallelujah  Chorus  !  We  waited  half  an  hour  till  the  sun 
was  fairly  up,  as  we  should  have  lost  by  going  on. 
Everything  was  frozen,  and  a  great  deal  of  hard  snow  to 
cross,  so  odd  on  the  i4th  of  July ! 

About  five  o'clock  we  got  up  here  ;  it  is  an  exception- 
ally glorious  morning  ;  at  first  a  few  tiny  clouds  float- 
ing about  and  waving  like  streamers  from  the  highest 
peaks  ;  now  it  is  absolutely  cloudless,  unbroken  deep 
blue  above,  and  a  perfect  circle  of  the  highest  mount- 
ains in  Europe  enclosing  enormous  glaciers  around  us. 
Monte  Rosa,  the  nearest  of  all,  looks  a  stone's  throw 
across  a  glacier  valley.  Till  just  now,  when  some  tour- 
ists came  up,  we  have  not  heard  a  sound  except  a  very 
distant  waterfall  several  thousand  feet  below,  and  one 
adventurous  little  bird  that  must  have  lost  its  way.  We 
sent  our  guide  off,  so  as  to  stay  ad  lib.  There  is  a  little 
space  at  the  top  here,  partly  rock  and  partly  stony, 
where  we  walked  like  hyenas  backwards  and  forwards 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  135 

(about  three  yards)  to  keep  up  circulation  till  the  sun 
got  power,  which  it  did  soon  after  six.  Then  we  read  a 
little,  and  then  I  went  to  sleep  for  three-quarters  of  an 
hour,  then  another  hyena  promenade,  then  breakfast  on 
hard  eggs  and  bread  and  red  wine.  Then  some  Ger- 
man tourists  came  up  as  hungry  as  wolves,  and  were 
quite  thankful  for  a  bit  of  bread  we  could  spare.  It  is 
quite  hot  now,  and  not  a  breath  of  wind  ;  had  there 
been  we  could  not  have  stayed  so  long  ;  the  clearness  is 
extraordinary,  so  different  from  yesterday,  when  the 
peaks  kept  up  a  -sort  of  sublime  bo-peep  among  the 
clouds.  An  avalanche  somewhere  towards  the  Matter- 
horn  has  just  fallen  with  a  long  deep  solemn  roar  ;  no 
one  saw  it,  only  heard  it.  There  is  snow  all  around  us, 
i.e.  on  three  sides ;  on  the  fourth  there  is  none,  because 
it  is  a  precipice. 

Monday,  IT  A.M. — Up  atop  of  the  Hornlein,  a  sort  of 
impudent  sucker  sprouting  from  the  root  of  the  Matter- 
horn.  I  could  not  finish  half  I  had  to  say  on  the  Cor- 
ner Grat,  as  some  Americans  came  up  and  made  an 
awful  clatter  and  quite  broke  the  spell  of  the  place.  We 
consequently  started  down  soon  after  ten,  and  entirely 
lost  our  way,  got  into  a  sort  of  labyrinth  of  snowdrifts 
and  rocks  ;  you  see  this  unprecedentedly  late  snow 
makes  everything  unusually  difficult.  We  got  into  no 
danger,  only  a  little  extra  delay  and  fatigue. 

In  the  afternoon  we  came  leisurely  down  from  the 
Riffel  to  our  pet  hotel  at  Zermatt,  where  we  had  an 
amusingly  gushing  welcome,  as  we  are  in  great  favour, 
especially  with  two  particularly  nice  Swiss  waitresses, 
who  simply  worship  us.  It  is  quite  odd  the  fancy  they 


I36  SWISS  LETTERS. 

have  taken  to  us  ;  they  watch  for  our  return  from  every 
walk,  and  run  to  meet  us  and  carry  up  our  things. 

Saturday  we  really  kept  our  resolution  to  be  quiet, 
and  only  camped  out  all  the  morning  a  mile  off  in  a  pine 
wood,  and  had  an  ordinary  walk  in  the  evening.  Sunday 
was  just  brilliant  all  day  ;  a  nice  little  church,  Cha- 
mouni  style,  but  very  few  there.  Chaplain  Mr.  A.,  a 
young  curate  ;  sermon  no  harm,  but  very  young  and  mild. 
Service  otherwise  very  nice  ;  good  reader.  E.'s  uncle 
and  cousin  staying  over  Sunday  ;  the  latter  a  warm- 
hearted little  thing  and  a  recent  Young  Women's  Chris- 
tian Association  member. 

This  morning,  Monday,  brilliant  again.  When  I 
came  down  to  breakfast,  about  4.40  A.M.,  the  Matter- 
horn  looked  like  an  obelisk  of  solid  gold,  a  most  peculiar 
effect,  for  on  that  side  we  see  no  other  snow  peak,  and 
all  below  it  was  still  in  shadow,  deep  green  and  brown, 
and  nothing  between  this  and  the  one  immense  golden 
rock. 

We  have  come  in  for  a  piece  of  peculiar  good  fortune. 
We  had  no  intention  of  doing  anything  grand  to-day, 
but  took  food  and  went  without  a  guide  to  the  Schwarzee, 
a  lovely  little  lake,  perhaps  seven  thousand  feet  high, 
reflecting  the  snow  summit  exquisitely.  By  our  host's 
directions  we  found  the  way  easily,  and  got  there  at 
8.30,  having  started  at  five.  On  the  way  we  fell  in  with 
cows  and  goats  and  a  boy,  so  we  made  him  milk  a  goat 
for  us  into  E.'s  tin  cup,  while  we  held  its  horns ! 

We  only  got  one  little  cupful  apiece,  and  wanted  the 
child  to  catch  and  milk  another.  He  declined  entirely, 
saying  the  others  were  not  his  own,  and  therefore  he 
could  not  :  only  that  one  belonged  to  him.  Was  not 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  137 

this  wonderfully  honest  ?  Of  course  we  took  care  he 
did  not  lose  by  it.  We  camped  at  the  Schwarzee,  but 
very  soon  saw  Mr.  Whitewell  (E.'s  connection)  coming 
near  with  two  guides  and  a  porter,  on  his  way  for  five 
hours  up  the  Matterhorn,  intending  to  do  the  worst  part 
early  to-morrow.  He  had  never  been  up  this  Hornlein, 
which  is  not  much  out  of  the  Matterhorn  route,  so  we 
had  the  advantage  of  following  him  and  his  guides  all  up 
here  to  my  great  delight. 

We  are  in  such  good  training  that  we  did  it  easily 
enough,  especially  as  there  was  very  little  snow  to  cross  ; 
but  I  don't  think  you  have  the  least  notion  of  the  sort  of 
places  we  get  up  now.  Tell  H.  C.  we  should  not  now 
count  Pierre  &  1'Echelle  at  all  among  our  proper  good 
climbs !  Anything  under  nine  thousand  feet  does  not 
count  at  all !  Mr.  W.  and  his  party  are  gone,  and  we 
have  been  some  time  quite  alone  ;  and  there  will  be  no 
more  tourists,  as  it  is  too  late  for  early  birds,  and  it  is  far 
too  much  for  an  afternoon  excursion.  The  view  is  nearly 
as  fine  as  from  the  Corner  Grat,  but  not  so  panoramic, 
because  we  are  close  under  the  Matterhorn. 

Tuesday,  July  18. — We  stayed  a  good  while  on  the 
Hornlein,  and  when  we  did  come  down  we  found  we  had 
the  hardest  work  we  have  yet  done  ;  we  clambered  up 
so  delightedly  that  we  never  took  in  what  a  complete 
precipice  it  was,  and  infinitely  harder  to  come  down  than 
going  up  could  be.  However,  we  got  down  without  the 
least  slip  or  nervousness.  It  is  simply  a  question  of 
making  each  foot  sure  before  you  remove  the  other  or 
replant  your  alpenstock.  We  find  the  Hornlein  is  about 
the  height  of  the  Corner  Grat,  and  anywhere  else  it 


I38  SWISS  LETTERS. 

would  be  a  very  grand  rocky  peak  ;  but  as  it  juts  out  in 
front  of  the  Matterhorn,  it  seems  part  of  it,  and  does  not 
interfere  with  the  unity  of  the  enormous  single  peak. 

We  were  out  from  five  A.M.  to  6.30  P.M.,  pretty  well  of 
oxygen  for  one  day,  and  we  did  not  feel  over-tired. 

To-day  we  are  really  taking  it  quietly,  as  we  must  be  off 
at  two  A.M.  to-morrow  for  the  Col  de  St.  Theodule,  the 
highest  of  all  the  passes,  11,000  feet.  All  the  telescopes 
in  Zermatt  are  at  work  upon  the  Matterhorn.  This 
morning  Mr.  W.  was  visible  not  very  far  from  the  top, 
/.  e.,  three  movable  black  dots  supposed  to  be  himself 
and  the  guides.  We  have  done  all  the  excursions  here 
except  Cima  di  Jazi,  as  Miss  Anstey  has  not  turned  up. 
Zermatt  itself  is  not  equal  to  Chamouni  on  the  whole, 
but  some  of  the  views  when  one  gets  to  them  (the  mule 
paths  and  others  are  the  worst  I  ever  saw)  are  as  grand, 
and  much  wilder  and  more  astonishing.  The  contrasts 
are  very  great,  some  of  the  loveliest,  quietest  little  dingles 
imaginable.  You  might  be  in  England  or  Wales,  all 
green  and  ferny  and  shady,  little  tumbling  brooks  and 
stepping  stones  ;  and  then  you  look  up  and  see  some- 
thing fifteen  thousand  feet  high  through  the  branches ! 


LETTER   VII. 

jfufy  20.     Noon. 
CHATILLON,  in  the  Val  cTAosta.  • 

We  are  safely  and  pleasantly  over  our  grand  affair 
and  one  great  extravagance,  the  Pass  of  St.  Theodule, 
and  after  floundering  in  snow  yesterday  morning  have 
been  eating  ripe  figs,  apricots,  and  pears  this  morning. 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  139 

We  ordered  coffee  at  1.30  'A.M.,  and  got  fairly  off  by  two, 
with  a  most  gushing  farewell,  the  host  insisting  on  pre- 
senting us  with  a  bottle  of  some  special  red  wine  for 
our  journey  as  a  token  of  regard  !  We  had  quite  a 
cavalcade,  a  guide  en  chef,  Schaller,  and  another  en- 
gaged as  porter,  but  who  did  not  think  fit  to  carry  my 
carpet  bag,  and  transferred  it  to  a  sub.  Also  a  man 
with  E.'s  horse,  and  another  with  my  mule.  It  was  clear 
cloudless  starlight,  and  therefore  not  dark,  when  we  got 
away  from  the  lights  of  the  hotel.  It  was  very  curious, 
this  silent  march  under  the  stars,  and  quite  novel,  along 
a  roaring  glimmering  white  river  and  over  a  little  foot 
bridge,  and  then  up  into  the  blackness  of  the  pines,  and 
at  last  out  above  them  just  as  a  little  quiver  of  paleness 
began  to  show  where  the  dawn  was  to  be  looked  for. 
We  saw  some  shooting  stars,  and  then  E.  saw  a  meteor, 
and  towards  three  A.M.  I  saw  a  splendid  meteor  in 
the  north-west,  as  large  and  bright  as  a  crescent  moon, 
but  lasting  only  two  or  three  seconds.  The  progress  of 
dawn  was  most  interesting,  so  gradual  and  lovely  ;  but 
the  sunrise  itself  was  not  so  fine  as  some  we  have  seen  ; 
being  golden  only  and  not  rosy.  But  we  had  to  perfec- 
tion that  pale,  clear,  saintly,  expectant  light  on  the  great 
white  mountains,  which  I  think  so  peculiarly  beautiful, 
before  any  colour  comes  upon  the  world,  and  some 
singular  reflections  of  gold  clouds  upon  snow  slopes, 
themselves  in  shadow. 

We  did  not  ride  all  the  way  to  the  foot  of  the  Theo- 
dule  glacier  as  a  few  do,  for  Schaller  said  it  was  really 
dangerous,  and  very  little  saving  of  fatigue,  being  sheer 
scrambling  over  rocks  ;  so,  though  the  creatures  had 
shown  themselves  astonishingly  knowing  in  picking  a 


I40  SWISS  LETTERS. 

way  over  most  dreadful  places  already,  we  dismounted 
and  dismissed  them.  Most  of  the  path  had  been  just  a 
track  creeping  along  and  up  the  side  of  tremendously 
steep  slopes,  with  the  great  Corner  glacier  down  so 
many  hundred  feet  below.  Even  I  submitted  to  have 
my  animal  led  by  a  little  chain,  a  thing  I  never  gave  in 
to  before.  How  horrified  you  would  have  been  at  my 
attire  !  for  on  alighting  we  took  off  every  possible  thing, 
even  the  skirts  of  our  dresses,  and  I  proceeded  with 
simply  my  grey  linen  unlined  body  on,  and  not  even  a 
necktie,  between  four  and  five  A.M.,  and  over  ice  and 
snow.  It  is  experience  that  it  is  the  best  plan,  one 
walks  lighter,  and  the  exertion  keeps  one  warm  enough, 
while  if  one  wears  jackets,  etc.,  one  only  gets  hot,  and 
then  runs  the  risk  of  getting  a  chill.  I  believe  girls 
catch  more  colds  than  boys,  because  they  have  so  much 
extra  on  to  go  out  in,  and  consequently  get  warm  and 
thereupon  get  chilled.  I  remember  my  own  agonies 
at  being  "  wrapped  up  "  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  though 
I  was  not  extra  coddled  in  that  way. 

The  almost  unprecedented  snow  here  greatly  dimin- 
ished instead  of  increasing  our  difficulties,  for  the  upper 
glaciers  are  firmly  snowed  over,  crevasses  and  all,  so 
that  our  grand  affair  turned  out  less  difficult  than  some 
smaller-sounding  things  we  have  done.  Schaller  was 
very  wroth  on  reaching  the  glacier  to  find  that  the  rope 
had  been  forgotten  by  Biner,  but  the  snow  was  in  such 
good  condition  that  it  proved  to  be  not  at  all  necessary, 
though  usually  an  essential  for  this  pass.  It  was  a  long 
pull  of  nearly  three  hours  up  the  snow,  never  steep 
enough  to  need  steps  cutting  with  ice-axes,  as  on  the 
Sparrenhorn,  and  not  in  any  way  exciting,  except  for 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  141 

the  wonderfully  wild  snowy  scene  all  round,  right  up 
among  the  enormous  heights  of  Monte  Rosa,  Matter- 
horn,  etc.  We  were  surprised  how  little  fatigued  we 
were,  but  this  was  probably  owing  to  Schaller's  deter- 
mined management  of  us  ;  he  would  not  let  us  go  be- 
yond a  very  quiet  pace,  said  we  should  get  palpitation 
at  that  height  if  we  did,  and  insisted  on  our  eating  a 
little  and  drinking  red  wine.  He  says  it  is  a  great  mis- 
take in  mountaineering  to  go  on  till  you  get  a  little 
exhausted. 

On  the  top  of  the  col  we  halted  (and  then  was  the 
time  to  put  a  shawl  on !)  :  such  a  strange  wild  scene,  a 
vista  into  a  great  misty  depth,  was  Italy  ;  but  otherwise 
it  was  all  grand  and  solemn  and  pure,  snow  summits 
far  too  high  for  either  dirt  or  noise.  There  is  a  hut  on 
the  top,  the  walls  of  which  were  built  by  De  Saussure 
nearly  a  hundred  years  ago  for  his  scientific  experiments, 
now  the  guides  went  and  smoked  in  it !  It  is  the  high- 
est dwelling  (so  called)  in  Europe.  In  ordinary  sea- 
sons a  man  would  be  found  here,  and  wine,  but  no  one 
has  come  yet  thrs  year,  and  the  floor  was  ice,  with  the 
old  straw  for  beds  frozen  into  it.  I  picked  up  a  feather 
very  near  the  hut,  which  I  send  as  a  relic  to  Johnnie  ; 
can  he  tell  what  bird  it  belongs  to?  I  don't  think 
many  of  his  relations  will  send  him  feathers  from  eleven 
thousand  feet  high.  We  only  stayed  about  twenty  min- 
utes, for  the  snow  softens  every  minute,  and  in  the 
afternoon  might  be  even  dangerous.  It  was  about  eight 
when  we  started  down  on  the  Italian  side,  and  we  were 
soon  plunging  and  floundering  in  soft  snow.  I  found  I 
had  a  great  advantage  in  being  so  much  lighter  than 
the  others,  though  I  got  let  in  sometimes. 


142  SWISS  LETTERS. 

About  eleven  we  got  to  Brend,  a  nice  little  inn  below 
the  snow  and  above  the  first  chalets.  Here  we  went  to 
sleep,  guides  and  all ;  and  to  my  extreme  astonishment, 
when  we  fairly  roused  up  and  felt  like  morning,  it  was 
nearly  three  P.M.  So  we  had  made  up  for  our  short 
night,  and  felt  quite  fresh,  and  as  if  another  day  had 
begun.  After  dinner  we  had  a  lovely  evening  walk 
down  through  magnificent  gorges  to  Val  Tournanche, 
only  five  or  six  miles  more  ;  and  we  were  perfectly 
ready  to  start  again  at  5.30  this  morning,  and  walked 
more  than  thirteen  miles  down  to  Chatillon,  dined 
there  at  eleven,  and  have  had  an  hour's  siesta  after  it. 

It  was  "like  a  book,"  only  a  great  deal  better,  to 
watch  the  gradual  development  of  vegetation  during  our 
uninterrupted  descent  of  ten  thousand  feet.  On  the 
col  not  even  a  lichen,  then  down  through  Alpine  lichens 
and  mosses  to  gentians  and  glacier  anemones,  every 
mile  bringing  us  into  a  different  zone  of  flowers  ;  then 
pines,  then  birch  and  hayfields,  then  ash  and  standing 
corn,  then  walnuts  and  chestnuts  and  reaped  corn,  and 
now  vines  and  every  kind  of  Italian  greenery  and  fruit. 
It  was  more  than  passing  in  a  day  from  January  to 
July,  for  the  extremes  are  greater  than  English  winter 
and  summer  ;  perhaps  from  Spitzbergen  to  Italy  repre- 
sents it  better,  without  seven-league  boots.  It  was  well 
that  it  was  quite  cloudy  part  of  our  way,  or  we  should 
have  found  the  snow  more  trying  than  we  did,  even  with 
veils  and  dark  spectacles  ;  we  had  a  few  showers,  but 
nothing  to  hurt  or  hinder.  Down  here  they  have  had 
none,  and  it  is  as  hot  and  dusty  as  can  be,  with  flies 
equal  to  Visp  or  Egypt.  It  is  a  very  picturesque  place, 
rather  like  Freiburg,  only  Italian  in  character  ;  a  beau- 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  143 

tiful  bridge  of  one  high  arch  spanning  a  tremendous 
gorge  close  to  the  hotel,  and  peeps  of  snow  mountains 
over  an  almost  tropical  valley. 


July  22,  7.30  A.M.  Perched  on  rocks  just  above 
Courmayeur  ;  Mont  Blanc,  aiguilles,  and  all, 
glorious  before  us  ! 

I  hated  Chatillon,  could  not  settle ;  hotel  dusty  and 
awfully  hot,  just  what  1  dislike  ;  so  we  left  at  4.30  by 
diligence,  and  reached  Aosta  at  7.30.  We  were  obliged 
to  go  inside  ;  however,  I  was  consoled  by  getting  an 
opportunity  of  airing  my  Italian  with  some  Turin 
people  ;  I  got  on  better  than  I  expected,  and  think  I 
should  soon  get  pretty  fluent.  I  am  disappointed  to 
find  that  in  this  Val  d' Aosta  they  speak  almost  entirely 
French  ;  and  if  not  this,  Piedmontese,  which  is  a 
hideous  p'atois,  as  ugly  as  Welsh,  and  not  at  all  like  Ital- 
ian. Next  morning  we  did  Aosta  pretty  thoroughly  be- 
fore 9.30  A.M.  First  we  had  a  superb  walk  up  to  a 
church,  St:  Marguerite,  which  commands  a  magnificent 
view  of  the  whole  valley  (weather  magnificent  too  ;  al- 
ways is  when  we  want  it !)  It  is  very  beautiful  indeed, 
wide  and  grand,  with  two  rivers  winding  below  three 
separate  sets  of  grand  snow  mountains  in  the  openings 
of  the  lower  ranges,  town  itself  a  picture,  with  towers 
and  bridge,  and  plenty  of  walnut  and  chestnut  trees  and 
vineyards,  to  fill  up. 

We  were  in  ecstasies  with  a  little  village  perched  on  a 
green  shelf  of  the  mountain,  every  separate  house  a  pic- 
.ture  with  galleries  and  gables,  and  the  spaces  between 
one  mass  of  arcading  of  vines  trained  on  stone  pillars 


144  SWISS  LETTERS. 

and  wooden  trellises  above,  surpassing  the  prettiest  Ital- 
ian pictures  you  ever  saw.  It  is  literally  "sitting  under 
his  vine";  and  the  natives  did  look  so  cool  and  pic- 
turesque in  the  shade,  quite  enviable.  This  expedition 
took  us  about  two  hours,  and  then  I  actually  went  all 
about  the  town.  This  is  the  first  time  we  have  slept  in 
one  since  Lucerne,  and  the  first  time  we  have  slept  below 
three  thousand  feet  ;  but  then  Aosta  is  really  uncom- 
mon, not  merely  Italian,  but  full  of  such  fine  Roman  re- 
mains as  I  did  not  know  could  be  seen  out  of  Rome,  mas- 
sive arches  and  towers  in  wonderful  preservation  and 
most  interesting.  We  gave  an  old  woman  twopence  and 
my  bag  to  put  what  she  liked  in.  I  thought  she  would 
never  stop,  and  on  counting  for  curiosity,  there  were 
thirteen  plums,  fourteen  apricots,  and  five  large  pears  ! 
Walking  along  this  valley  does  not  do  after  seven  A.M., 
so  we  went  by  diligence  at  10.30  ^seventeen  miles  to 
Morgex  by  about  three  o'clock  ;  some  folks  could  have 
"  walked  backwards  "  quite  as  fast.  We  heard  a  great 
deal  of  talk  about  the  king,  who  is  now  "  in  the  moun- 
tains "  hunting  a  beast  of  the  chamois  kind,  but  peculiar 
to  one  mountain  district  south  of  Aosta.  He  seems  im- 
mensely popular  here  ;  they  told  us  with  great  satisfac- 
tion that  he  always  speaks  Piedmontese  "  en  famille 
and  to  us,  though  he  can  speak  all  the  other  languages," 
and  that  he  is  " un  vrai  montagnard"  and  enjoys  above 
all  things  getting  away  to  the  mountains,  and  that  he 
camps  out  quite  near  the  snow  for  three  days  at  a  time, 
and  is  "a  wonderful  shot  and  never  misses,"  and  vari- 
ous other  items  of  praise. 

Morgex  was  very  lovely,  but  horribly  hot,  and  I  have 
had  quite  enough  of  Italian  valleys  and  am  delighted  to 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  145 

be  nearer  the  snow  again  at  Courmayeur,  which  was 
about  seven  miles  farther.  I  must  have  been  either 
a  ptarmigan  or  a  chamois,  if  I  transmigrated,  before 
turning  up  as  F.  R.  H.  ;  mountains  do  suit  me,  and  no 
mistake.  At  Morgex  I  tumbled  about  on  a  mattress  all  the 
afternoon  ;  it  was  too  hot  to  sleep,  and  too  hot  to  go  out, 
and  even  too  hot  to  have  the  windows  open.  However, 
the  enormous  shadow  of  Mont  Blanc  brings  early  evening, 
and  soon  after  six  the  whole  valley  was  in  shadow  and 
we  had  a  nice  walk. 

Owing  to  a  fortunate  mistake,  we  have  had  the  most 
exquisite  sunrise  of  all.  We  ordered  coffee  at  3.30,  and 
to  be  called  at  three,  thinking,  as  these  Italians  are  un- 
punctual,  we  might  get  off  at  four.  They  did  call  us, 
and  we  thought  it  a  very  dark  morning  ;  and  when  I  had 
finished  dressing,  I  looked  at  my  watch,  and  it  was  just 
2. 20.  We  were  not  sorry,  for  a  Mr.  Wade  we  met  at 
Aosta  (brother  of  the  ambassador  at  Pekin)  warned  us 
that  it  would  be  an  awfully  hot  walk  if  once  the  sun  got 
over  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain.  So  we  set  off  at 
three  under  the  stars  again,  with  a  delicious  breeze  com- 
ing straight  down  from  Mont  Blanc  to  meet  us.  The 
dawn  was  perfection  and  cloudless,  except  some  fairy 
flakes  of  pink  and  gold,  and  one  little  pale  bell  of  cloud 
half  way  up  the  monarch.  But,  when  the  rose-fire 
touched  Mont  Blanc  itself,  and  spread  down  to  meet  the 
little  cloud,  the  glory  of  it  was  entirely  indescribable. 
E.  said,  "  the  most  heavenly  thing  upon  earth,"  and  there 
it  must  rest,  for  one  can't  say  more.  I  always  thought 
people  coloured  these  sunrises  a  little,  but  that  is  sim- 
ply impossible  ;  even  Ruskin  will  not  over-paint  them. 
"  Fade  into  the  light  of  common  day  "  has  great  signifi- 

ib 


146  SWISS  LETTERS. 

cance ;  for  though  the  splendour  lasted  longer  than 
usual  this  morning,  it  is  only  a  matter  of  fifteen  minutes 
at  most  ;  and  if  one  misses  that,  one  may  just  as  well 
not  get  up  till  eight.  Had  we  started  at  four,  we  should 
have  had  little  if  any  view  of  Mont  Blanc,  owing  to  the 
bend  of  the  valley  ;  as  it  was,  we  reached  the  very  finest 
point  of  view  at  the  right  moment. 

Courmayeur  is  most  charming,  grand  and  lovely  com- 
bined, decidedly  beats  Zermatt.  Fortunately  Mr.  Wade 
recommended  us  to  Hotel  Mont  Blanc,  which  we  never 
should  have  found  for  ourselves  ;  a  quiet  hotel-pension 
half  a  mile  away  from  Courmayeur,  and  on  the  grandest 
site,  quite  to  our  liking  ;  we  are  pensioned  at  about  5.5-. 
•$d.  a  day.  We  are  camped  out  for  the  morning  ;  there 
are  no  goats  to  play  with,  but  pretty  little  green  and 
brown  lizards  scampering  about  the  rocks,  which  do  as 
well,  and  make  a  change ! 

A  wrinkle  for  Maria,  which  seriously  I  should  think 
worth  introducing  for  poor  people  at  Wyre  Hill  !  At 
our  pet  hotel  at  Zermatt  we  had  hay  duvets  !  of  course 
too  hot  for  July,  but  must  be  most  comfortable  in  win- 
ter, and  quite  as  much  warmth  as  a  good  blanket.  Just 
a  large  doubled  square  of  coloured  print,  neat  and  clean, 
lightly  filled  with  loose  hay  !  What  a  boon  they  would 
be  in  hard  winters,  and  they  could  be  made  of  any  old 
stuff  for  almost  nothing.  I  shall  try  it  myself  for  very 
poor  people,  if  it  comes  a  hard  winter. 

The  bread  on  this  side  the  Alps  is  most  queer  ; 
the  waiter  brings  a  small  clothes-basket  full  of  bread, 
and  puts  a  handful  like  a  little  sheaf  by  each  .party  on 
the  table.  It  is  in  strips  about  two  feet  long,  size  of  my 
little  finger,  very  crisp  and  nice.  They  give  other 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  14? 

bread  or  roll,  but  these  sticks  are  evidently  the  leading 
idea. 

The  hours  here  are  most  original.  We  are  supposed 
to  have  coffee  early,  when  we  like  ;  then  at  10  A.M.  a 
dejeuner  table  d'hdte  ;  this  was,  first  a  white  grainy 
compound  with  grated  cheese  supposed  to  be  soup,  then 
sliced  German  sausage  and  bread  and  butter,  then  very 
good  cutlets  and  fried  potatoes,  then  stewed  pears,  then 
cheese,  then  apricots,  etc.  The  second  table  d'h6te  is 
at  five. '  There  are  about  thirty-two  Italians  and  Pied- 
montese  in  the  house,  no  English  ;  they  are  rather 
noisy,  but  very  amusing  to  watch.  After  breakfast  we 
strayed  into  the  salon  de  lecture,  and  found  a  tolerable 
piano,  the  first  we  have  had  ;  so  naturally  I  sat  down, 
there  being  only  two  ladies  in  the  room,  played  a  bit, 
and  finally  sang.  I  was  rather  startled  after  the  latter 
performance  to  hear  a  vehement  round  of  clapping.  1 
had  no  idea  of  it,  but  the  room  had  filled  quietly  ;  I 
had  my  back  to  them,  and  found  I  had  a  room  full  of 
Italians  as  audience,  quite  a  new  thing  for  me !  and 
they  seemed  amazingly  pleased.  Actually  the  waiters 
brought  more  chairs  in,  seeing  the  concourse,  to  my 
great  amusement  ;  so  what  could  I  do  but  yield  to  the 
requests,  and  sing  two  more  songs  !  We  are  not  the 
least  tired  as  yet,  but  mean  to  have  three  hours'  siesta  ; 
we  always  make  up  our  short  nights. 


LETTER  VIII. 

COURMAYEUR,    Wednesday,   July  26. 

We  could  not  have  beds  in  our  pension,  and  the  hotels 
were  full,  so  we  slept  in  a  pigsty  of  a  cottage  where 


I48  SWISS  LE  TTERS. 

nothing  was  clean  except  the  beds.  It  was  too  late  to 
make  a  fuss,  but  we  made  up  our  minds  to  live  out  all 
day  and  decamp  on  Monday  morning. 

Sunday  was  tolerably  pleasant.  Services  quite  de- 
lightful, though  there  were  only  seven  English  and  a  few 
foreign  spectators.  Chaplain  Mr.  Phinn,  from  Dorsetshire; 
two  lovely  little  sermons,  all  one  could  wish,  and  not 
stiff  and  unappropriate  like  some  others  we  have  had. 
The  hymns  went  so  capitally  in  the  morning  that  Mr.  P. 
put  on  four  hymns  in  afternoon  service  ;  he  is  almost  a 
match  for  Mr.  Snepp  at  it !  And  really  we  seven  En- 
glish, and  Mr.  P.  included,  made  the  little  Vaudois  chapel 
ring  again,  and  did  a  good  deal  better  than  many  a  con- 
gregation of  ten  times  as  many.  Mr.  P.  knows  many  of 
dear  papa's  own  tunes  well,  and  his  especial  favourite  is 
Zoheleth,  which  he  says  every  one  is  struck  with  who 
hears  it,  as  far  as  his  experience  goes. 

We  were  to  have  gone  early  on  Monday  to  Mont  de 
Saxe,  but  a  really  tremendous  thunderstorm  came  on 
with  torrents  of  rain,  so  we  got  up  late,  and  did  not  fin- 
ish breakfast  till  nearly  seven.  It  was  fair  then,  but  too 
late  for  Mont  de  Saxe,  which  is  a  special  sunrise  affair, 
so  we  walked  off  to  the  Pavilion  de  Mont  Blanc,  which 
is  exactly  parallel  to  Pierre  Pointue  on  the  opposite 
side,  and  about  the  same  height.  Not  having  slept 
properly  for  three  nights,  we  found  it  rather  a  pull,  and 
clouds  came  down  on  the  aiguilles,  and  Mont  Blanc 
might  have  been  in  England  for  all  we  saw  of  him,  and 
an  old  Swiss  farmer  told  us  there  would  be  "le  vent  et  la 
grtte  et  la  pluie  and  all  that  was  bad."  So  we  raced 
down  again  and  got  to  the  hotel  before  two.  Thereupon  it 
cleared  up  and  was  a  lovely  afternoon,  and  we  wished 


LETTERS  IN  1871. 


we  had  stayed.  Next  morning  we  started  with  a  mule 
and  guide  for  Mont  de  Saxe  ;  it  was  fair  enough  till  we 
were  near  the  top,  and  then  it  began  to  snow,  and 
snowed  all  the  time  till  we  got  down  to  rain  level,  and 
then  it  rained  all  the  day  in  such  a  style  that  you  would 
not  think  it  could  go  on  like  that  for  ten  minutes  longer. 
We  gained  our  hotel  by  eleven. 

My  proofs  had  come  late  the  evening  before,  so  I  sat 
down  to  make  the  best  of  it  in  the  salon  de  lecture  (as 
we  had  no  room),  but  did  not  get  on  at  all  well,  as  the 
Italians  fidgeted  in  and  out  and  played  cards  and  piano. 
We  had  decided  we  could  not  go  on  this  way  any  more, 
so  poor  E.  went  off  to  Courmayeur  in  the  rain,  and  after 
going  everywhere,  finding  all  full,  to  her  great  delight 
got  a  comfortable  and  fairly  quiet  room,  only  very  dark 
and  no  look-out,  at  the  Hotel  Royale.  Still  we  hailed 
this  and  departed  as  to  a  sort  of  refuge,  a'nd  had  a  very 
good  night. 

The  Italians  made  a  great  fuss  at  our  departure,  and 
want  me  to  come  back  and  sing  again.  Each  time  ]• 
touched  the  piano  the  whole  company  flocked  in  from 
all  sides,  it  was  most  amusing!  All  are  staying  en  pen- 
sion, which  is  why  we  could  have  no  room.  At  table 
d'hote  at  Hotel  Royale  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Phinn's  places 
were  next  ours,  and  Mr.  P.  talked  most  interestingly  ; 
such  a  nice  man.  They  had  called  on  us  at  Hotel  Mont 
Blanc,  which  is  what  a  chaplain  ought  to  do,  I  think,  so 
I  was  gratified. 

This  morning  proved  perfectly  magnificent,  which 
was  tantalizing,  but  I  determined  to  buckle  to  and  had 
a  good  steady  five  hours'  work  on  my  proofs  in  an  open 
air  gallery  without  any  distracting  view  except  a  brilliant 
sky. 


ISO  SWISS  LETTERS. 

Friday,  July  28. — Still  at  Courmayeur !  So  far  I  had 
written  in  a  delicious  den,  a  discovery  of  E.'s,  a  shallow 
cave  under  a  rock  a  little  way  up  Mont  de  Saxe,  cool 
and  shady,  and  commanding  a  grand  front  view  of  Mont 
Blanc,  with  a  little  white  pillar  of  cloud  on  the  very 
top. 

Yesterday  I  had  a  very  satisfactory  proof  morning. 
In  the  afternoon  we  had  a  stiff  climb  up  the  shoulder  of 
Mont  Chetif,  whose  Courmayeur  face  is  a  striking  preci- 
pice, and  whose  top  is  a  curious  cone  of  rock  ;  there  is 
a  tolerable  path  up  a  gorge  which  leads  to  a  ridge  below 
the  cone  :  from  this  you  get  an  astonishing  face  to  face 
view  of  the  most  precipitous  side  of  Mont  Blanc  (too 
steep  for  any  snow  to  stick),  and  the  immense  ice-fall  of 
the  great  Glacier  du  Brenva.  The  summit  of  Mont 
Blanc  was  almost  entirely  veiled,  but  that  seemed  almost 
to  enhance  the  weird  sublimity  of  the  view. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Phinn  asked  us  to  come  to  tea  to  meet 
Costabel,  the  Vaudois  missionary  pastor,  stationed  at 
Courmayeur.  This  was  very  interesting.  He  is  a 
simple,  good  man,  very  cordial  and  communicative, 
and  he  told  us  a  good  deal  about  Vaudois  work,  etc.  ; 
the  talk  was  all  in  French.  Costabel  is  very  isolated 
here,  and  has  only  a  few  poor  Christian  friends,  and 
never  any  superior  society  unless  English  find  him  out. 
Mr.  P.  has  thoroughly  taken  him  up,  and  they  go  long 
walks  together.  He  told  us  the  fear  of  death  among 
the  people  here  is  awful,  that  he  is  frequently  present  at 
the  most  painful  death  scenes.  During  life  and  health 
they  leave  everything  to  the  priest,  and  believe  that  he 
will  make  it  all  right  for  them,  and  except  complying 
with  certain  forms  do  not  think  or  trouble  themselves 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  151 

about  religion  at  all.  Then  when  they  are  dying  they 
get  alarmed,  and  see  that  this  natural  shifting  of  their 
religion  upon  the  priest  will  not  do,  they  lose  confidence 
in  him,  and  have  no  other  ;  they  want  peace  and  have 
none  ;  they  would  like  to  feel  assured,  but  they  have  no 
assurance,  and  die  in  the  agonies  of  terror.  It  was  ter- 
rible to  hear  Costabel's  description  of  what  he  says  is 
the  rule  as  to  death-beds.  "Unto  the  poor  the  Gospel 
is  preached,"  and  he  says  it  is  so  here,  that  only  the 
poor  will  listen  to  him  and  those  in  the  outlying  villages 
where  no  priest  resides. 

We  find  the  people  here  quite  different  from  the  Swiss, 
and  not  so  ready  to  accept  Gospels,  etc.  It  is  the  first 
place  where  on  offering  one  we  have  been  asked  "  if  it 
was  a  Protestant  book."  However,  they  always  end  by 
taking  them. 

We  did  so  hope  to  have  got  away  this  morning,  and 
now  I  fear  we  cannot  get  to  Chamouni  at  all.  The 
Alle"e  Blanche  is  a  route  which  is  worse  than  lost  by 
going  in  bad  weather,  and  Courmayeur  is  in  such  a  hole 
that  you  cannot  get  out  of  it  without  going  over  some 
great  pass,  unless  you  do  two  days'  diligence  to  Torca 
and  round  by  Turin,  or  go  back  to  Aosta  and  over  the 
Great  St.  Bernard  to  Martigny.  Although  Courrrwyeur 
has  been  the  scene  of  our  only  mistakes  and  misfor- 
tunes, I  more  than  ever  think  that  either  for  strong  or 
weak  folk  it  is  the  very  best  place  I  know  of  for-  making 
a  long  stay  ;  the  walks  and  excursions  are  inexhaustible, 
grand  ones  for  mountaineers  and  lovely  little  easy  ones 
for  invalids.  Valleys  and  gorges  fork  in  all  directions. 
It  is  totally  different  from  Chamouni,  which  is  one  grand 
valley,  and  even  better  than  Zermatt  in  this  respect. 


1 5a  SWISS  LETTERS. 

It  is  on  a  gentle  slope,  some  height  above  the  noisy 
foaming  Dora,  and  so  has  not  the  perpetual  roar  which 
is  such  a  drawback  to  Swiss  enjoyment.  If  the  rivers 
would  but  go  to  sleep  at  night,  what  a  relief  it  would 
be  !  I  shall  take  your  advice  about  not  overdoing  one- 
self the  last  thing  before  coming  home  ;  I  found  my 
broken  nights  took  down  my  strength  to  English  level, 
and  I  was  quite  fagged  in  getting  up  Mont  de  Saxe,  but 
one  good  night  set  me  up  again.  I  certainly  have  not 
been  so  well  for  years,  and  I  am  so  sunburnt  it  will  take 
two  winters  to  bleach  me. 

CHAPIU.     Saturday,  5.30  P.M. 

We  have  got  off  at  last ;  the  weather  was  not  hope 
ful,  but  we  ordered  a  mule  and  provisions,  and  set  out 
at  five  A.M.  in  the  highest  spirits,  and  there  was  the  mos\, 
transparent  dawn-sky  imaginable,  not  a  cloud,  and  a. 
delightful  north  wind,  which  is  an  infallible  sign  of  first- 
rate  weather. 

As  we  passed  our  old  hotel  (Mont  Blanc)  we  found 
a  caravan  of  about  eighteen  mules  and  nearly  as  many 
guides,  and  all  the  Italian  gentlemen  pensioning  there 
(no  ladies)  were  going  to  the  Col  de  la  Seigne  for  the 
day.  • 

I  wish  H.  C.  could  have  seen  the  shiftless  southerners 
attempting  to  mount;  four  of  them  had  actually  got  on 
a  low  wall  to  mount  from  while  the  guides  were  trying 
to  poke  the  animals  close  enough  for  them.  We  hastened 
on,  not  wishing  to  get  mixed  up,  and  kept  ahead  the 
whole  way,  five  hours,  though  we  were  alternately  on 
foot,  and  got  to  the  top  just  before  them.  We  chose 
our  spot  to  lunch,  and  they  camped  at  a  little  distance, 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  153 

with  many  bows  and  "  Bon  appetit !  "  and  other  small 
foreign  civilities  as  they  passed  us. 

When  we  had  finished  and  were  moving  off  they 
shouted  to  us  to  stay,  and  all  rose  and  came  to  us,  offer- 
ing wine  and  fruit,  and  saying  they  wished  to  propose  a 
toast  and  drink  with  us  before  we  left.  It  was  far 
too  gracefully  done  to  refuse  ;  so  red  wine  was  poured, 
and  all  raised  a  most  cordial  "  Vive  1'Angleterre  !  "  with 
great  enthusiasm  and  clinking  of  glasses,  to  which  we 
responded  with  "  Viva  1" Italia !  "  which  seemed  to 
please  them.  Then  an  old  priest  said,  "  Mesdemoiselles, 
etes-vous  catholiques?  Viva  Roma,"  to  which  I  replied 
in  Italian,  "We  can  at  least  say,  Viva  Roma  capitale 
d 'Italia  /"  which  response  he  quite  understood,  and 
said,  "  Ah  well,  ah  well !  viva  Christianity  !  "  to  which 
we  of  course  responded  con  amore.  Then  two  or  three- 
more,  probably  freethinkers  I  am  afraid,  said  "  Oui  bien, 
but  no  more  popery,"  and  other  similar  exclamations,  at 
which  we  were  very  much  astonished,  as  at  least  three 
priests  were  in  the  party.  Then  we  were  allowed  to 
depart  with  no  end  of  hat-wavings  and  good  wishes. 
It  was  such  a  curious  little  episode,  occurring  too  at 
such  a  superb  spot,  and  close  to  the  cross  which  marks 
the  boundary  and  bears  on  one  side  "  France  "  and  on 
the  other  "  Italia." 

We  reached  Chapiu  at  two,  and  we  hoped  it  might 
be  possible  to  put  on  steam  and  get  over  the  Col  de 
Bonhomme  this  afternoon,  but  we  found  it  could  not  be 
done  before  dark,  so  we  were  obliged  to  give  it  up  and 
stay  over  Sunday  at  this  funny  little  lonely  inn. 

It  has  been  a  glorious  day,  almost  too  clear,  as  it 
rather  takes  from  the  sublimity,  the  summits  looking  so 


154  SWISS  LETTERS. 

near.  We  passed  the  Lac  de  Combat,  an  exquisitely 
soft  tinted  lake,  pearly  blue,  but  less  intense  than  Ge- 
neva, reflecting  a  grand  and  lovely  group  of  snow  sum- 
mits and  ridges,  more  like  a  fairy  fancy  than  a  reality  in 
its  unique  loveliness. 

That  lake  was  red  in  Napoleon's  days,  and  a  wretched 
garrison  was  kept  freezing  there  four  whole  winters, 
guarding  the  pass  at  the  boundary.  The  ruins  of  their 
rough  fortifications  are  reflected  in  one  corner,  a  melan- 
choly contrast. 

The  col  is  8,450  feet  high,  but  the  ascent  was  un- 
usually gradual,  and  we  were  as  fresh  when  we  got  to 
the  top  as  when  we  started.  But  then  we  had  igno- 
miniously  descended  to  having  a  mule  between  us,  so 
it  was  only  two  hours  and  a  half  walking  for  each. 


LETTER  IX. 

HOTEL  GIBBON,  LAUSANNE.     Thursday,  Aug.  3. 

I  actually  have  had  no  one-half  hour  to  begin  this 
conclusion  of  my  reports,  for,  in  spite  of  all  my  resolu- 
tions, we  have  had  three  tremendous  days.  How  was  a 
mortal  to  resist  doing  all  one  could  at  Chamouni? 

Sunday  at  Chapiu  we  turned  out  for  a  little  air  the 
first  thing,  came  back  in  the  rain,  and  had  to  stay  in  the 
rest  of  the  day.  We  intended  to  have  spent  part  of  it 
in  Scripture  reading  among  the  few  scattered  chalets 
within  reach,  as  Costabel  told  us  the  inhabitants  are 
mostly  mere  heathen,  and  not  even  looked  after  by  any 
priest. 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  155 

Monday  dawned  sulky,  but  not  bad  enough  to  stay  at 
Chapiu,  where  the  bread  was  sour  and  the  other  viands 
pale  and  greasy,  and  we,  having  the  best  room,  were  ac- 
commodated with  one  deal  bench  instead  of  any  chairs. 
So  we  set  off  before  sunrise,  in  hope,  and  after  an  hour's 
steep  climb  met  the  clouds,  which  were  relieving  them- 
selves of  sleet.  We  soon  got  to  the  highest  chalet  and 
took  shelter.  Such  an  interior  !  Fancy  a  good-sized 
barn,  one  half  consisting  of  a  platform  three  steps  high, 
the  other  with  floor  of  bare  earth.  We  were  civilly  in- 
vited to  ascend  the  steps  and  sit  on  a  box,  which  we 
thankfully  did,  for  we  dared  not  stir  for  dirt  and  fleas. 
On  this  platform,  which  had  one  window  a  foot  square, 
were  five  beds,  three  of  hay  on  the  floor,  covered  with 
one  filthy  sheet  and  a  great  brown  coverlet  ditto,  the 
other  two  a  sort  of  boxes  of  hay.  Presently  the  beds 
were  made,  and  the  process  was  simple,  consisting  of  a 
shake  and  poke  to  the  hay,  which  sent  out  a  cloud  of 
dust.  Two  children  were  awoke  and  dressed  ;  their 
toilet,  performed  by  the  father,  occupying  about  a  min- 
ute, and  chiefly  consisting  of  putting  on  cap  and  shoes. 
We  watched  the  proceedings  on  the  earthen  floor  half  of 
the  house  with  amusement.  The  inhabitants  all  had 
breakfast  in  a  desultory  way,  milk  and  curds  and  bits  of 
black  bread,  supped  out  of  great  porringers  with  gigan- 
tic spoons.  There  were  five  men  and  a  woman,  all  oc- 
cupied with  the  milk  and  cheese  business,  and  grouping 
themselves  picturesquely  in  the  light  from  the  door,  and 
a  wood  fire  on  the  ground  made  near  enough  to  a  hole 
in  the  corner  of  the  roof  to  give  the  smoke  a  chance. 
Over  the  fire  a  cauldron,  at  least  four  feet  in  diameter, 
swung  about  by  a  great  creaking  beam,  a  most  witch- 


156  SWISS  LETTERS. 

like  affair.     After  nearly  two  hours  the  storm  moderated, 
and  the  guide  said  we  could  go  on. 

When  we  had  done  all  the  worst  of  the  ascent,  the  rain 
having  happily  ceased,  I  suddenly  fell  sick.  It  was  a 
fix,  for  we  were  too  high  either  to  stop  or  go  back,  and 
I  could  not  stir,  but  lay  down  on  the  wet  stones,  whereat 
the  guide  was  frantic.  "  Madame  serait  malade,  if  she 
did  not  get  up  and  walk."  (They  consider  themselves 
as  responsible  for  their  travellers).  Most  opportunely 
E.  descried  at  some  depth  below  two  gentlemen  and  a 
mule  ;  by  the  time  they  reached  us  I  was  rather  better, 
and  they  were  most  amiable  about  lending  me  their 
animal,  making  out  that  it  was  only  laziness  to  have  had 
one  at  all.  We  continued  the  ascent ;  and,  to  my  amaze- 
ment, getting  among  the  snow  again  so  revived  me  tha* 
when  we  got  as  far  as  the  mule  could  go  (in  about  an 
hour)  I  felt  all  right.  The  "  traversed,"  as  they  call  it, 
of  the  Col  de  Bonhomme  was  the  wildest  of  wild  scenes, 
cutting  across  the  west  shoulder  of  the  Mont  Blanc 
chain,  all  rocks  and  snow,  most  formless  and  chaotic, 
and  famous  as  being  about  the  most  difficult  to  find  the 
way.  Our  benevolent  friends  had  a  Zermatt  guide,  who 
was  supposed  to  know  it  well ;  but  they  quite  lost  th«j 
way,  and  were  brought  back  by  much  racing  and  hal- 
looing by  the  Chapiu  man  who  was  with  me  and  the 
mule.  A  thick  white  icy  fog  had  come  on  and  made  the 
col  very  characteristic,  but  we  lost  the  grand  views.  We 
came  down  into  the  lovely  valley  of  Contamines  and 
dined  at  Nant  Borrant,  and  after  an  hour's  sleep  we 
walked  two*  hours  more  down  to  Contamines,  which  we 
reached  about  5.30.  Such  a  lovely  place,  luxuriant  and 
bright,  with  snow  summits  closing  the  valley,  and  the 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  157 


rosy  smile  of  a  great  white  peak  shining  down  at  sunset 
through  a  cloud  rift. 

Next  morning  was  another  of  the  brilliant  days  of 
which  we  have  had  so  many.  It  is  eighteen  miles  to 
Chamouni,  so  we  took  a  horse  between  us  for  the  first 
six  or  seven  miles,  leaving  less  than  eleven  to  walk.  The 
top  of  the  Col  de  Voza  is  glorious,  it  is  too  close  under 
Mont  Blanc  to  see  the  real  summit,  but  the  massive 
shining  snow  of  the  Dome  and  Aiguille  du  Goute"  are 
close  above  ;  all  the  other  aiguilles  follow  in  a  grand 
curve,  and  the  fine  sweep  of  the  vale  of  Chamouni  is 
nowhere  seen  to  such  advantage.  The  colouring  was 
vivid,  and  the  atmosphere  keenly  clear.  We  scampered 
down  to  Les  Ouches,  and  then  finished  the  walk  with 
four  miles  and  a  half  of  level  road  to  Chamouni,  which 
was  quite  a  rest  after  the  mountain  work.  Having  got 
our  letters  and  looked  about  Chamouni,  we  took  mules 
and  started  up  the  Breven !  Not  all  the  way,  as  we 
could  not  reach  the  top  before  dark,  but  to  Plampraz, 
about  two-thirds  of  the  way  up,  a  first-rate  place  for  sun- 
set, rather  higher  up  than  La  Flegere,  and  exactly  op- 
posite the  great  Glacier  des  Bossons  and  the  very  heart 
of  Mont  Blanc. 

How  we  did  triumph  over  the  people  whom  we  met 
going  down  to  table  d'h6te  at  Chamouni,  just  as  the 
grand  show  up  there  was  going  to  begin!  There 
had  been  more  than  one  hundred  visitors  at  Plampraz, 
but  all  cleared  down  before  sunset,  and  we  had  the  lit- 
tle inn  and  the  sunset  all  to  ourselves.  It  seemed  too 
much  to  have  all  alone  ;  how  I  did  want  you  and  all! 
That  whole  magnificent  range  close  opposite  to  us  turned 
gold,  and  then  fire  colour,  and  then  softened  into  rose, 


158  5 WISS  LE  TTERS. 

and  then  tenderly  paled  away  into  that  most  saintly 
colourless  afterlight,  which  M.  L.  will  remember  we 
agreed  in  admiring  most  of  all.  The  valley  was  quite 
dark  below,  and  the  black  pine  forests  beneath,  and  the 
almost  purple  s'.cy  above,  formed  a  wonderful  setting  for 
all  that  superb  colouring. 

Next  morning,  Wednesday,  we  were  up  just  in  time 
for  a  lovely  clear  sunrise  ;  but  there  is  no  expanse  of 
colouring  in  the  morning,  as  the  eastern  tips  are  only 
seen  sideways.  The  rose  flush  was  very  delicate  and 
lovely,  but  all  over  in  ten  minutes.  Then  we  had  cof- 
fee, and  soon  after  five  started  up  the  Breven,  which  I 
did  not  intend  to  do  at  all,  and  meant  to  let  E.  go  alone  ; 
but  how  could  I  help  it  on  such  a  morning  !  It  is  much 
more  difficult  than  I  expected,  as  there  are  several  snow 
slopes,  and  one  where  we  should  have  been  glad  of  an 
ice  axe  to  cut  steps;  and  near  the  top  the  "chemi- 
nee  "  is  quite  a  hands  and  feet  climb  up  a  rock.  The 
view  from  the  very  summit  is  a  first-class  panorama,  and 
quite  a  different  thing  from  going  only  to  the  little  inn, 
which  many  do,  and  call  it  "  going  up  the  Breven." 
We  stayed  an  hour  to  take  it  in,  then  came  down  again 
to  Plampraz  and  had  another  breakfast. 

The  next  move  was  to  march  to  La  Fle*gere,  about 
five  or  six  miles,  a  more  tiresome  walk  than  we  expect- 
ed ;  as,  instead  of  being  nearly  level  along  the  slope,  it 
was  rather  sharp  up  and  down  the  whole  way.  It  was 
delightful  to  see  La  Fiegere  again  and  compare  impres- 
sions, as  it  was  my  first  revisited  scene.  It  was  begin- 
ning to  cloud  over,  and  so  looked  just  the  same  as  when 
we  saw  it  in  1869.  I  do  not  think  the  Mer  de  Glace 
part  of  the  view  lost  anything  by  comparison  with  all 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  159 


we  had  seen  ;  but  the  Mont  Blanc  part  of  it  is  very  in- 
ferior to  the  BreVen  view.  We  had  only  time  to  rest 
twenty  minutes  and  drink  some  milk,  and  then  set  out 
again  by  a  cross  cut,  which  for  part  of  the  way  was  no 
path  at  all,  down  to  Argentiere.  We  had  no  guide,  and 
occasionally  made  a  bad  speculation  and  made  angles  ; 
however,  we  reached  the  Couronne  where  we  breakfasted 
in  1869,  ravenous! 

After  dinner  we  took  mules  for  the  Col  de  Balm  at 
4.30,  rather  annoyed  at  being  reduced  to  this  ignominy, 
but  we  had  wearied  ourselves  in  tracking  the  way  to  Ar- 
gentiere, and  it  was  a  close,  oppressive  day.  I  had  be- 
fore inquired  for  Joseph  Devouassoud  ;  he  was  off  duty 
as  guide  ;  however,  he  got  wind  of  the  inquiry,  and  a 
description  of  the  inquirer  ;  whereby  he  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  it  was  the  writer  of  the  verses  in  his  cer- 
tificate book,  which  verses  he  seems  to  have  consider- 
ably traded  upon  !  So  after  dinner  he  came  in  delight- 
ed and  gushing,  quite  amusing,  and  got  leave  from  the 
guide  chef  to  exchange  his  turn,  and  so  came  with  us 
up  the  Col  de  Balm.  It  was  cloudy  and  gloomy  when 
we  got  up  at  nearly  seven  o'clock  ;  we  went  immediate- 
ly up  the  hill  on  the  left,  where  H.  C.,  M.  L.,  and  I 
went  to  get  the  panorama.  It  was  really  very  grand  ; 
though  I  would  rather  have  seen  it  in  clear  light,  the 
sombre  gloom  was  not  a  bad  effect,  especially  on  the 
Tete  Noire  side,  where  the  gulf  was  almost  black  and 
the  mountains  just  awful,  with  the  white  Buetlike  a  dim 
ghost  overlooking  them.  The  Mont  Blanc  range  was  a 
chaos  of  cloud  and  snow.  We  saw  most  where  last  time 
we  saw  least,  /.  e.  down  Martigny  way  ;  the  Rhone  valley 
mountains  being  clearer,  and  some  vestiges  of  sunset 


160  SWISS  LETTERS. 

light  on  them.  No  one  else  except  a  very  fatigued  Ger- 
man slept  there  ;  he  had  walked  from  Chamouni  vid 
Montanvert,  and  had  quite  exhausted  himself;  "it  was 
far  too  much  to  attempt,"  he  said.  We  were  enter- 
tained, for  we  had  done  considerably  more  in  the  day, 
and  were  quite  lively  after  it  all. 

It  poured  all  night,  but  left  off  after  seven  A.M.,  so  we 
prepared  to  start ;  our  bill  was  simply  scandalous.  We 
decided  to  give  up  the  Eau  Noire  gorge  route,  and  go 
direct  to  Martigny.  The  P.  S.  G.  calls  it  five  hours  and 
a  half,  but  we  scampered,  wishing  to  catch  the  12.30 
train,  and  we  actually  did  it  in  four  hours,  including 
five  minutes'  stoppage  on  the  Col  de  Trient  for  a  glass 
of  wine  and  water. 

Although  it  poured  furiously  part  of  the  way,  I  never 
was  more  glad  that  we  had  no  waterproofs  ;  we  could 
not  have  done  it  if  we  had,  and  if  I  come  pedestrianis- 
ing  again  I  shall  take  none.  Getting  wet  is  nothing  in 
Switzerland,  one  gets  dry  again  directly.  It  seemed 
quite  too  luxurious  to  get  into  such  good  paths  again  as 
the  Col  de  Balm  ;  Zermatt,  etc.,  are  half  a  century  be- 
hind Chamouni  in  this  respect. 

It  would  have  been  tatalizing  to  go  by  rail  down  the 
Rhone  valley  if  it  had  been  fine  ;  but  it  was  all  colour- 
less and  cloudy  and  rainy,  so  I  was  grateful  to  George 
Stephenson.  The  lake  of  Geneva  can't  help  looking 
blue  in  any  weather,  but  it  was  rough  enough  to  make 
us  glad  we  had  not  gone  by  steamer.  Montreux,  etc., 
looked  astonishingly  tame  after  the  great  scenes  we  have 
been  in.  We  came  on  here  (Lausanne),  as  our  bags 
were  to  be  at  Poste  Restante,  otherwise  it  would  have 
been  nicer  to  go  on  to  Neuchatel.  Even  the  smallest 


LETTERS  IN  1871.  161 


modicum  of  baggage  is  sure  to  be  a  nuisance  first  or 
last.  Only  fancy  us  at  Hotel  Gibbon  !  the  first  time  we 
have  been  in  one  of  these  Swiss  palaces  in  this  tour, 
and  we  feel  so  out  of  place  !  The  first  thing  I  did 
on  getting  into  this  grand  hotel  was  to  tumble  down 
full  length  on  the  polished  gallery  floor,  owing  to  the 
nails  in  my  boots.  I  never  had  a  single  fall  on  ice,  snow, 
or  rock  !  so  it  was  rather  odd. 

Our  evening  coffee  here  under  splendid  chandeliers 
and  mirrors  and  carving  and  gilding  was  a  considerable 
contrast  to  the  previous  night.  At  Plampraz,  which 
was  lowest  in  the  scale,  we  had  no  chair  or  table  in  our 
bedrooms,  and  the  limited  washing  apparatus  was  on  a 
very  small  shelf  by  the  bed,  which  was  a  sort  of  wooden 
crib. 

On  .the  whole  I  set  Courmayeur  as  A  i  of  all,  and  I 
think  Zermatt  second,  and  Chamouni  third.  But  there 
is  no  single  scene  more  unique  and  characteristic  than 
the  Mer  de  Glace  at  Chamouni,  and  no  panorama  to 
compare  with  the  Gorner  Grat.  Courmayeur  has  far 
the  most  variety,  whether  for  excursions  or  for  strolls, 
and  is  quite  the  place  for  the  longest  stay.  But  Cha- 
mouni is  the  place  to  begin  with,  to  get  into  training  ; 
Courmayeur  to  improve  upon  it ;  and  Zermatt  to  use 
and  tax  all  your  Alpine  powers.  You  can't  think  what 
easy  walks  all  the  Chamouni  excursions  seem  to  us  now  ! 
N.B. — I  read  my  letters  over  to  E.,  so  there  is  a  guar- 
antee against  exaggeration. 

Connie  was  the  only  person  who  addressed  rightly  to 
Chamouni ;  every  one  else  put  Switzerland,  so  causing 
delay  and  extra  payment,  as  it  is  France,  No  one  ever 
ii 


1 62  S  tVJSS  LE  TTERS. 

will  believe  that  Chamouni  is  not  Switzerland  and  never 
was,  but  Savoy,  and  now  France. 

Monday,  7.30  A.M. — Clapham  Park.  Just  as  uncom- 
fortable a  journey  home  as  possible,  a  small  counter- 
balance to  our  previous  prosperity.  I  can't  stay  for  de- 
tails, but  will  write  when  I  get  to  Perry  Barr.  Horrible 
crossing.  Delightful  Sunday  here,  splendid !  most  strik- 
ing sermons,  Rev.  Aubrey  Price ;  leave  here  8.45.  Could 
not  possibly  post  on  Saturday. 


IV. 
MY   ALPINE   STAFF. 

MY  Alpine  staff  recalls  each  shining  height, 
Each  pass  of  grandeur  with  rejoicing  gained, 
Carved  with  a  lengthening  record  self-explained, 

Of  mountain  memories  sublime  and  bright. 

No  valley  life  but  hath  some  mountain  days, 
Bright  summits  in  the  retrospective  view. 
And  toil-won  passes  to  glad  prospects  new, 

Fair  sunlit  memories  of  joy  and  praise. 

Grave  on  thy  heart  each  past  "  red-letter  day"  ! 
Forget  not  all  the  sunshine  of  the  way 
By  which  the  Lord  hath  led  thee  :  answered  prayers 
And  joys  unasked,  strange  blessings,  lifted  cares, 
Grand  promise-echoes  !     Thus  thy  life  shall  be 
One  record  of  His  love  and  faithfulness  to  thee. 

(163) 


V. 
HOLIDAY   WORK. 

I  ONLY  wish  that  all  the  tired  workers  at  home  would 
renew  their  strength  and  spirits  by  such  holiday  work 
abroad  as  lies  within  reach  of  many  who  fancy  it  far  out 
of  their  reach.  I  did  not  know  till  the  summer  before 
last  what  a  combination  of  keen  enjoyment  and  benefit 
to  health,  with  opportunities  of  usefulness  and  open 
doors  innumerable,  was  to  be  found  in  a  pedestrian  tour 
by  unprotected  females  !  This,  too,  without  difficulties  or 
discomforts  worth  calling  such,  and  at  a  very  much 
smaller  outlay  than  is  supposed  possible  by  those  who 
travel  in  the  usual  expensive  way,  and  think  that  going 
to  Switzerland  for  six  or  eight  weeks  means  spending 
^50  at  the  least.  Much  less  than  half  that  sum  will 
suffice  for  such  a  tour  as  ours.  And  lest  it  should  be 
thought  that  exceptional  strength  is  necessary,  I  may 
premise  that  both  my  friend  and  myself  had  been  thor- 
oughly overworked,  and  were  obliged  to  seek  rest ;  thai 
neither  of  us  is  very  strong,  and  that  a  walk  of  a  mile 
or  two  is  the  extent  of  our  English  powers. 

Of  course  we  chose  the  inexpensive  route,  vid  New- 
haven  and  Dieppe  to  Paris,  and  thence  by  night  train  to 
Belfort,  on  the  frontier,  where  we  arrived  at  nine  A.M., 
June  2pth,  1871.     As  we  had  slept  pretty  fairly,  having 
(164) 


HOLIDA  Y  WORK.  165 


had  a  carriage  to  ourselves  by  reason  of  the  guard's 
natural  sympathy  for  unprotected  females,  and  having 
been  able  to  lie  down  full  length  by  reason  of  going 
second  class  instead  of  first,  we  were  not  tired,  and  in- 
tended to  proceed.  But  the  train  to  Basle  and  Lucerne 
had  just  left.  "  C'est  une  disorganisation  complete  /"  said 
a  fatigued  Frenchman,  and  rightly.  No  information 
whatever  was  to  be  had,  either  at  Paris  or  at  Belfort  it- 
self, as  to  trains  beyond,  unless  you  got  hold  of  a  Ger- 
man official.  Moreover,  every  German  train  was  ar- 
ranged to  depart  just  before  the  corresponding  French 
one  got  in,  and  vice  versa,  apparently  for  the  purpose  of 
spite.  And  so  it  came  to  pass,  as  a  result  of  the  war, 
that  we  had  nearly  six  hours  to  wait. 

When  there  is  no  one  to  wait  and  be  anxious  for  you, 
and  no  one  to  arrange  for  but  your  two  selves,  and  no 
fixed  plan  beyond  to-day,  and  that  day  and  all  its  hours 
committed  to  a  Father's  guidance,  disappointment  be- 
comes almost  impossible,  and  the  crossing  of  one's  in- 
tentions constantly  results  in  most  evident  guiding  to 
something  better.  So  it  was  with  our  detention  at  Bel- 
fort,  which  was  no  part  of  our  own  programme. 

We  set  off  through  the  town  to  the  fortifications. 
"Why  should  we  not  begin  at  once?"  said  my  friend, 
E.  Clay.  So,  setting  the  example,  she  began  offering 
French  tracts  and  "  portions "  to  almost  every  one  we 
met.  And  a  wonderful  two  or  three  hours  we  had! 
Such  eagerness  for  the  little  books,  such  gratitude,  such 
attentive  listening  as  we  tried  to  speak  of  Jesus,  such 
tears  as  we  touched  the  chord  of  suffering,  still  vibrating 
among  these  poor  people,  to  whom  war  had  been  an 
awful  reality  !  Surely  God  sent  us !  Not  one  to  whom 


166  SWISS  LETTERS. 

we  spoke  but  told  us  of  husbands,  sons,  or  brothers 
fallen  in  the  siege  or  elsewhere  ;  or  else  of  terrible  losses 
and  poverty.  Some  to  whom  we  gave  tracts  went  away 
reading,  and  soon  came  back  begging  for  another,  "  pour 
ma  mere,"  "pour  un  ami."  We  went  into  a  large  room, 
where  several  wounded  soldiers  lay,  while  women  sat  at 
work  ;  here  again  all  was  earnest  attention  and  gratitude. 
"Aferci  infinimtnt,  infiniment!"  said  one  poor  fellow. 

At  last  we  made  our  way  up  to  the  fortifications, 
where  probably  none  but  "unprotected  females"  would 
have  been  allowed  !  Our  petits  livres  secured  us  the  re- 
spect of  the  few  soldiers  and  many  workmen.  We  re- 
alized a  little  of  what  war  means,  as  we  wandered  about 
the  half-ruined  stronghold,  and  looked  down  upon  a 
church  with  scarcely  a  square  yard  of  roof  intact,  and 
houses  in  every  stage  of  shatter  and  desolation,  or,  at 
best,  poorly  patched  up  for  bare  shelter. 

Before  we  left,  a  deputation  came  to  us  from  a  party 
of  workmen  who  had  been  reading  our  tracts  during 
their  dinner,  to  ask  for  a  few  more,  that  they  might  take 
them  to  some  camarades,  who  were  employed  in  another 
part  of  the  town,  and  who  "would  be  too  happy  to  pos- 
sess them." 

As  we  returned  through  the  town  we  found  many 
waylaying  us.  At  one  point  which  they  knew  we  must 
pass,  at  least  thirty  persons  were  waiting,  and  pressed 
round  us,  begging  for  more  tracts.  We  had  only  a  few 
leaflets  left,  with  "  Rock  of  Ages  "  in  French  and  Ger- 
man, and  these  they  accepted  eagerly.  I  have  since 
regretted  that  it  did  not  occur  to  me  at  the  moment  to 
sing  it. 

We  reached  Lucerne  that  night,  and  next  morning 


HOLIDAY  WORK.  167 

steamed  down  the  lake.  It  would  have  been  contrary 
to  our  travelling  principles  to  pay  first-class  fare  for  the 
privilege  of  sitting  among  the  unsociable  English,  aft, 
with  funnels  and  paddle-boxes  right  between  us  and  the 
magnificent  scenery  opening  out  before  us  ;  so  we  took 
second-class  tickets,  thereby  securing  for  half-price  a 
clear  front  view,  with  nothing  but  transparent  air  be- 
tween us  and  the  increasing  loveliness  ahead,  and  also 
the  advantage  of  being  among  the  natives,  who  were  all 
politeness  to  the  English  ladies.  We  thus  had  also  the 
benefit  of  some  charming  Swiss  songs,  sung  by  a  girls' 
school  out  for  a  holiday  ;  they  lent  us  their  little  song- 
book  to  follow  the  music,  and  were  delighted  at  receiv- 
ing little  books  in  return,  which  might,  by  His  blessing, 
put  a  new  song  in  their  mouths. 

From  Altdorf,  at  the  other  end  of  the  lake,  our  long- 
anticipated  real  pedestrian  tour  began.  Our  plan  was 
as  follows.  Our  luggage  consisted  of  a  small  carpet-bag 
apiece,  every  inch  and  ounce  having  been  considered 
and  economised,  though  even  these  were  discovered  on 
further  experience  to  contain  superfluities!  These  bags 
we  sent  on  each  morning  by  post  or  diligence  if  on  grandes 
routes  ;  by  baggage  mule,  country  cart,  or  small  boy,  if 
off  the  track  :  to  whatever  place  we  thought  we  could 
reach  in  the  day  without  undue  fatigue  ;  and  here  we 
always  found  them  all  right ;  average  expense,  a  few 
pence. 

We  started  at  four  or  five  A.M.,  walking  on  till  we  felt 
inclined  to  stop  and  rest :  our  first  halt  being  given  to 
leisurely  reading  and  prayer  in  some  grand  and  lonely 
mountain  oratory  ;  a  plan  which  we  found  more  pleasant 
and  profitable  than  devoting  the  whole  time  to  it  indoors 


168  SWISS  LETTERS. 

before  starting.  Then  we  strolled  on  again,  halting  or 
taking  refreshment,  just  as  and  when  we  felt  inclined  ; 
resting  for  several  hours  in  the  heat  of  the  day,  and 
making  another  stage  or  two  in  the  afternoon.  We  car- 
ried tiny  knapsacks  (bags  are  a  great  mistake,  being 
more  fatiguing  to  carry)  ;  these  held  tracts  and  "  por- 
tions," a  biscuit  and  a  hard  egg,  and  the  barest  neces- 
saries in  case  of  missing  our  carpet-bags,  or  altering  our 
plan  for  the  night.  As  Switzerland  is  the  land  of  hotels 
and  travellers,  such  a  tour  as  ours  is  easier  than  it  would 
be  elsewhere  ;  unless  you  are  in  very  out-of-the-way 
places,  you  seldom  go  three  miles  without  some  oppor- 
tunity of  getting  a  meal,  nor  six  without  a  fair  chance 
of  beds. 

We  began  very  gradually  ;  our  first  walk  was  only  two 
miles,  but  in  a  fortnight  we  found  ourselves  doing  from 
fourteen  to  twenty  miles  in  the  day  without  getting 
tired!  Our  early  hours  were  part  of  the  secret;  one 
can  do  double  the  distance  before  seven  A.M.  that  one 
can  after ;  the  invigorating  effect  of  the  crisp,  fresh 
mountain  air  from  four  to  seven  A.M.  is  indescribable. 
Those  who  think  eight  A.M.  a  pretty  fair  start  never 
know  what  this  atmospheric  salvolatile  is.  But  you  can- 
not burn  your  candle  at  both  ends,  and  must  go  to  bed 
accordingly.  If  you  resolutely  and  regularly  retire  at 
eight  P.M.,  and  make  no  scruple  about  taking  a  good 
siesta  in  the  heat  of  the  day  (and  you  may  lie  down  on 
the  grass  with  impunity  in  such  open  air),  it  will  come 
quite  natural  to  get  up  about  3.30  or  4  A.M.  We  felt  sen- 
sitive about  Dr.  Watts  and  "  wasting  our  hours  in  bed," 
if  we  were  not  out  of  it  before  5.30  on  Sunday  morn- 
ings. 


HOLIDAY  WORK.  169 

Oh,  the  delicious  freedom  and  sense  of  leisure  of  those 
days  !  And  the  veritable  "  renewing  of  youth,"  in  all 
senses  that  it  brought!  How  we  spied  grand  points  of 
view  from  rocks  above,  and  (having  no  one  to  consult, 
or  to  keep  waiting,  or  to  fidget  ahout  us)  stormed  them 
with  our  alpenstocks,  and  scrambled  and  leaped,  and 
laughed  and  raced,  as  if  we  were,  not  girls  again,  but 
downright  boys !  How  we  lay  down  on  moss  and  ex- 
quisite ferns,  and  feasted  our  eyes  on  dazzling  snow 
summits  through  dark,  graceful  pines,  with  intense  blue 
sky  above,  and  the  quiet  music  of  little  torrents  coming 
up  from  the  dell  below,  and  with  the  "visible  music  " 
all  round  us,  in  every  possible  colour-key,  of  those  mar- 
vellously lovely  Alpine  flowers,  which  people  never  see 
who  go  "  in  the  season,"  a  month  or  two  later.  How 
entirely  we  were  rid  of  that  imp,  Hurry,  who  wears  out 
our  lives  in  England  !  "  No  hurry  !  "  It  took  us  a  long 
while  to  realize  that  delightful  fact.  And  how  we  wished 
that  a  wish  could  have  transported  the  whole  Associa- 
tion of  Female  Workers  and  Young  Women's  Christian 
Association,  whom  we  left  in  London,  bodily  to  the 
spot,  to  share  the  wonderful  rest  and  enjoyment  which 
our  Father  was  giving  us  !  A  "  holiday  "  most  certainly  ; 
but  how  about  "  work "  ?  So  much  of  that,  that  we 
never  wanted  more  opportunities,  but  only  more  ear- 
nestness and  faithfulness,  and  courage  and  love,  to  use 
them.  If  space  allowed,  one  would  like  to  give  each 
day  in  order  and  detail,  with  its  pleasant  providences 
and  openings.  But  we  can  only  indicate  briefly  some 
of  the  different  kinds  of  "  opportunity  "  so  thickly  strewn 
in  our  path. 

Our  tour  was  entirely  through  Roman  Catholic  can- 


170  SWISS  LETTERS. 

tons  ;  its  roughly  sketched  outline  being  this  :  from 
Altdorf,  over  the  Furca,  down  the  Rhone  valley  to 
Viesch  ;  a  detour  to  ^£ggischhorn  and  Bel  Alp  ;  then 
to  Zermatt ;  over  the  pass  of  St.  Theodule  into  the  Val 
d'Aosta  ;  Courmayeur  ;  over  the  Col  de  Bonhomme  to 
Chamouni ;  thence  to  Martigny,  where  we  took  rail 
direct  home,  vid  Neuchatel.  And  all  the  way,  no  Bible, 
no  gospel,  but  souls  walking  in  darkness  all  around ! 
Will  not  some  of  our  workers  try  to  go,  and  tell  them  of 
the  True  Light  ? 

At  the  little  inns  where  we  slept,  we  nearly  always 
found  young  waitresses.  A  few  kind  words  and  smiles 
secured  their  absolute  devotion  to  us,  and  we  were 
waited  on  like  duchesses.  (N.  B. —  How  much  nicer 
than  going  to  big  hotels,  with  waiters  flying  about,  to 
whom  you  are  merely  No.  79  or  No.  43  !)  They  have 
"no  time  for  religion  in  the  summer,"  but  attend  extra 
masses  in  winter  to  atone  for  it.  But  they  find  time  to 
listen  with  surprise  as  you  speak  to  them  of  salvation. 
They  are  afraid  to  die  ;  "  Ah,  la  mart,  c'est  terrible !  " 
And  it  is  at  least  something  new  to  hear  of  a  "  sure  and 
certain  hope."  We  speak  to  them  again  in  the  morn- 
ing before  we  go,  and  sometimes  find  that  they  have 
been  lying  awake  thinking  of  what  had  been  said.  We 
give  them  a  Gospel  of  St.  John,  and  our  own  reading 
has  not  been  less  profitable  because  it  has  not  been  in 
our  own  Bibles,  but  in  this  "portion"  for  poor  The- 
rese,  marking  as  we  read  such  bright  star-texts  as  may 
catch  her  aye,  and  guide  her  to  Jesus. 

Here  I  may  say  that  during  our  long  mid-day 
rests  we  made  it  our  special  occupation  to  mark  the 
most  striking  passages  and  texts  in  the  "  portions  "  we 


HOLIDAY  WORK.  171 

were  going  to  give  away.  These  were  chiefly  St.  Luke 
and  St.  John,  while  to  persons  of  superior  intelligence 
and  education  we  often  gave  Romans,  but  always 
marked.  Even  curiosity  will  induce  people  to  look  at- 
tentively at  marked  passages. 

At  Zermatt,  where  we  stayed  five  days  in  the  clean, 
cheap,  and  unpretending  Hotel  des  Alpes  (which  we 
strongly  recommend),  there  were  two  maidens,  and  we 
agreed  each  to  make  special  effort  with  one.  Alexandrine 
had  evidently  never  thought  about  religion  ;  but  Marie, 
a  singularly  gentle  and  lovable  girl,  seemed  an  instance 
of  "  soil  prepared."  She  had  thought  much  of  death, 
and  with  terror  ;  she  had  tried  to  be  worthy  of  heaven, 
and  had  failed,  and  wondered  why  she  felt  so  bad  when 
she  really  wished  to  be  good.  She  said  she  knew  that 
Jesus  died  for  sinners,  but  had  no  idea  what  good  that 
was  to  do  for  her,  as  of  course  she  must  gain  her  own 
salvation,  and  then  He  might  save  her.  She  had  never 
seen  a  Testament,  and  no  one  of  the  many  English  ladies 
whom  she  had  served  had  ever  spoken  to  her  about 
these  things. 

Every  evening  she  contrived  to  come  to  my  room, 
and  we  read  the  German  Testament  and  prayed  to 
gether.  She  listened  eagerly,  and  as  if  it  were  indeed  a 
matter  of  life  and  death.  I  cannot  say  that  when  we 
left  she  was  able  to  rejoice  in  Christ,  but  I  think  that 
she  had,  though  tremblingly,  touched  the  hem  of  His 
garment ;  she  was  trusting  to  none  other,  and  saw  that 
it  must  be  "Jesus  only,"  and  the  whole  desire  of  her 
heart  seemed  to  be  toward  Him. 

We  often  turned  out  of  the  path  to  go  to  parties  of 
haymakers.  They  invariably  received  our  books  with 


172  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

pleasure,  and  their  acknowledgments  were  most  cour- 
teous. If  we  stayed  to  read  a  few  verses,  they  never 
seemed  to  feel  it  an  interruption.  We  gave  them  the 
book  out  of  which  we  read,  with  a  leaf  turned  down, 
that  they  might  look  again  at  the  passage.  One  morn- 
ing I  sat  down  by  an  old  woman,  who  was  knitting,  and 
watching  goats.  She  was  an  "  old  maid,"  very  poor, 
and  full  of  troubles.  She  often  thought  of  heaven,  she 
said,  and  how  different  it  would  be  there,  and  she  prayed 
that  God  would  show  her  how  to  get  there.  She  was  sure 
she  should  be  happy  if  she  was  where  the  good  Lord 
Jesus  was.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  poor  old  creature 
had  some  real  love  for  Him,  and  was  perhaps  a- true 
child  of  God,  though  with  little  light ;  so,  acting  on 
impulse,  yet  with  misgiving  as  to  its  being  the  right 
choice,  I  read  to  her  very  slowly  most  of  the  8th  of  Ro- 
mans, pointing  with  my  finger  to  every  line  as  she 
looked  over  me,  dwelling  on  and  repeating  the  most 
comforting  words.  I  was  little  prepared  for  the  effect 
of  the  thought,  so  entirely  new  to  her,  "  no  separation." 
She  took  hold  of  it  with  unquestioning  faith  and  with 
wonderful  joy.  "  Has  He  said  that,  that  I  shall  never 
be  separated  from  Him  ?  Ah,  how  beautiful  ;  ah,  how 
good  !  I  can  suffer  now,  I  can  die  now  !  "  And  the 
poor  wrinkled  old  face  was  positively  radiant.  Her 
tears  of  gratitude,  when,  after  a  long  talk,  I  said  she 
might  keep  the  little  book  which  contained  such  "pre- 
cious words,  were  touching  indeed.  At  my  last  glimpse 
of  her  she  was  poring  over  her  Romans,  heeding  neither 
her  goats  nor  her  knitting. 

Children  were  generally  proud  to  be  taken  notice  of 
by  the  "JSngldnderinnen"  and  so  were  the  parents,  if,  on 


HOLIDAY  WORK.  173 

making  friends  with  a  family  group,  we  asked  the  little 
ones  to  show  us  how  nicely  they  could  read.  As  they 
mostly  read  clearly  and  well,  this  seemed  to  answer  bet- 
ter than  our  own  reading,  for  it  gave  additional  motives 
for  attention,  and  easy  opportunities  for  questions  and 
simple  comments. 

It  is  a  good  plan  to  learn  by  heart  some  of  the  leading 
gospel  texts  ;  even  a  very  few  so  learnt,  prove  valuable 
weapons,  and  without  this  one  feels  comparatively  sword- 
less,  as  one  cannot  give  a  rough  and  ready  translation 
with  the  same  confidence  as  the  exact  words  of  the 
French  or  German  version.  Sometimes  we  quoted  such 
a  text  where  we  could  have  but  a  minute's  conversation, 
and  if  our  friends  seemed  at  all  struck  with  it,  we  gave 
them  the  portion  containing  it,  telling  them  that  if  they 
would  look  carefully  they  would  find  those  words  in  the 
little  book.  We  sometimes,  on  looking  back,  saw  them 
sitting  down  at  once  to  search  for  it.  "  My  word  shall 
not  return  unto  Me  void"  is  a  grand  promise  ;  and  in 
the  faith  of  that  it  was  a  comfort  to  quote  and  reiterate 
short  and  easily  remembered  texts,  when  our  supply  of 
"  portions  "  ran  short. 

All  very  well ;  but  what  are  those  to  do  who  speak 
little  or  no  French  and  German  ?  "  Where  there's  a  will 
there's  a  way,"  and  plenty  of  ways  too.  You  can  mark 
the  "  portions  "  ;  you  can  offer  them  ;  you  can  point 
out  passages,  and  get  the  person  to  read  it  to  you  j  or 
you  can  set  the  children  to  read  for  you  ;  and  while  that 
promise  standeth  sure,  who  shall  say  that  such  work 
shall  be  in  vain?  What  does  it  matter  about  our  words, 
if  we  can,  even  silently,  give  His  words  ? 

We  never  came  upon  ground  trodden  by  any  other 


174  SWISS  LETTERS. 

sower,  except  among  the  guides,  and  we  did  find  a  few 
of  them  who  had  at  least  "heard  of  these  things." 
They  are  intelligent  and  superior  men,  and  seemed 
more  often  ready  and  disposed  to  converse  seriously  and 
freely  on  important  subjects  than  any  class  of  men 
there  or  elsewhere. 

At  Bel  Alp,  a  mountain  pension  about  seven  thousand 
feet  high,  one  of  the 'loveliest  spots  in  the  darkest  can- 
ton, we  engaged  a  guide  for  the  ascent  of  the  Sparren- 
horn,  which  is  nearly  ten  thousand  feet  high.  (Unless 
going  above  snow  level,  or  crossing  a  glacier,  we  never 
required  Swiss  guides.  A  tolerable  map  and  the 
"  Practical  Swiss  Guide "  were  enough  for  all  other 
routes). 

We  started  at  3.45  A.M.,  and  from  the  stillness  of  the 
hill-side  overlooking  the  great  Aletsch  glacier  watched 
an  Alpine  dawn.  In  the  east  was  a  calm  glory  of  ex- 
pectant light,  as  if  something  altogether  celestial  must 
come  next,  instead  of  a  common  sunrise.  In  the  south 
and  west,  "  clear  as  crystal,"  stood  the  grandest  mount- 
ains, white  and  saintly,  as  if  they  might  be  waiting 
for  the  resurrection,  with  the  moon  shining  in  paleing 
radiance  over  them,  and  the  deep  Rhone  valley,  dark 
and  gravelike,  below.  Suddenly  the  first  roseflush 
touched  the  Mischabel,  then  Monte  Leone  was  trans- 
figured by  that  wonderful  rose-fire,  delicate  yet  intense. 
When  the  Weisshorn  came  to  life  (most  beautiful  of  all, 
more  perfectly  lovely  than  any  earthly  thing  I  ever  yet 
saw)  the  Matterhorn  caught  the  same  resurrection  light 
on  its  dark  and  evil-looking  rock  peak.  It  was  like  a 
volcano,  lurid  and  awful,  and  gave  the  impression  of  a 
fallen  angel,  impotently  wrathful,  shrinking  away  from 


HOLIDAY  WORK.  175 

the  serene  glory  of  a  holy  angel,  which  that  of  the 
Weisshorn  at  dawn  might  represent,  if  any  material 
thing  could.  The  eastern  ridges  were  almost  jet,  with 
just  a  tinge  of  purple,  in  front  of  the  great  golden  glow 
into  which  the  "  daffodil  sky "  rapidly  heightened,  till 
the  sun  rose,  and  the  great  dawn  splendour  was  over. 
Would  you  not  like  to  go  and  see  such  a  sight  ? 

During  this  excursion  I  had  several  little  talks  with 
our  guide,  Anton.  In  response  to  a  remark,  he  quoted 
a  verse  from  Hebrews  to  my  surprise.  He  explained 
this  by  telling  us  that  four  years  ago  an  English  lady 
had  spoken  to  him  about  his  soul,  and  on  her  return  to 
England  had  sent  him  a  New  Testament.  This  he  had 
read  daily.  He  had  no  other  help,  but  found  in  it  that 
he  might  pray  for  the  teaching  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
from  that  time  had  constantly  done  so.  He  had  learnt 
from  it  the  need  of  a  mediator,  and  that  there  is  but 
one  Mediator,  and  now  prayed  no  longer  to  the  Virgin 
or  the  saints,  but  only  to  and  through  the  Saviour. 
He  had  no  doubt  but  it  was  God's  own  word,  because 
he  felt  its  power  and  preciousness.  "  Life  was  a  dif- 
ferent thing  to  him  now,"  he  said,  and  it  was  evidently 
a  life  of  faith  on  the  Son  of  God.  Possibly  this  may 
meet  the  eye  of  the  faithful  sower  who  dropped  the  in- 
corruptible seed  which  has  borne  such  "  fruit  unto  life 
eternal." 

What  if  but  one  of  the  words  spoken  or  books  given 
during  a  whole  tour  should  be  thus  blessed  !  Would  it 
not  be  worth  all  the  effort,  and  the  screwing  up  of  cour- 
age, and  the  battles  with  shyness  a"nd  nervousness  and 
reluctance  which  have  to  be  fought  again  and  again  ? 


l?6  SWISS  LETTERS. 

Ye  .who  hear  the  blessed  call 
Of  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride  ; 

Hear  the  Master's  word  to  all, 
Your  commission  and  your  guide  : 

"And  let  him  that  heareth  say, 

Come,"  to  all  yet  far  away. 

Brothers,  sisters,  do  not  wait, 

Speak  for  Him  who  speaks  to  you ! 

Wherefore  should  you  hesitate  ? 
This  is  no  great  thing  to  do. 

Jesus  only  bids  you  say, 

"  Come  !  "  and  will  you  not  obey? 


VI. 

AN   ALPINE   CLIMBER. 

Ho  !  for  the  Alps  !     The  weary  plains  of  France, 
And  the  night-shadows  leaving  far  behind, 
For  pearl  horizons  with  pure  summits  lined, 
On  through  the  Jura-gorge  in  swift  advance 
Speeds  Arthur,  with  keen  hope  and  buoyant  glee, 
On  to  the  mountain  land,  home  of  the  strong  and  free 

On  !  to  the  morning  flush  of  gold  and  rose  ; 
On  !  to  the  torrent  and  the  hoary  pine  ; 
On  !  to  the  stillness  of  life's  utmost  line  ; 
On  !  to  the  crimson  fire  of  sunset  snows. 
Short  star-lit  rest,  then  with  the  dawn's  first  streak, 
On  !  to  the  silent  crown  of  some  lone  icy  peak  1 

'Twas  no  nerve-straining  effort  then,  for  him 
To  emulate  the  chamois-hunter's  leap 
Across  the  wide  rock-chasm,  or  the  deep 
And  darkly  blue  crevasse  with  treacherous  rim, 
Or  climb  the  sharp  arete,  or  slope  of  snow, 
With  Titan  towers  above  and  cloud-filled  gulfs  below. 

It  was  no  weariness  or  toil  to  count 

Hour  after  hour  in  that  weird  white  realm, 
With  guide  of  Alp-renown  to  touch  the  helm 
Of  practised  instinct ;  rocky  spires  to  mount, 
Or  track  the  steepest  glacier's  fissured  length 
In  the  abounding  joy  of  his  unconquered  strength. 
12  (177) 


178  SWISS  LETTERS. 

But  it  was  gladness  none  can  realize 

Who  have  not  felt  the  wild  Excelsior-thrill, 
The  strange  exhilarate  energies,  that  fill 
The  bounding  pulses,  as  the  intenser  skies 
Embrace  the  infinite  whiteness,  clear  and  fair, 
Inhaling  vigorous  life  with  that  quick  crystal  air. 

That  Alpine  witchery  still  onward  lures 
Upward,  still  upward,  till  the  fatal  list 
Grows  longer  of  the  early  mourned  and  missed  ; 
Leading  where  surest  foot  no  more  ensures 
The  life  that  is  not  ours  to  throw  away 
For  the  exciting  joys  of  one  brief  summer  day. 

For  there  are  sudden  dangers  none  foreknow  ; 
The  scarlet-threaded  rope  can  never  mock 
The  sound-loosed  avalanche,  frost-cloven  rock, 
Or  whirling  storm  of  paralyzing  snow. 
But  Arthur's  foot  was  kept ;  no  deathward  slips 
Darkened  the  zenith  of  his  strength  with  dire  eclipse. 

So,  year  by  year,  as  his  rich  manhood  filled, 
He  revelled  in  health-giving  mountain  feats  ; 
Spurning  the  trodden  tracks  and  curious  streets, 
As  fit  for  old  men,  and  for  boys  unskilled 
In  Alpine  arts,  not  strong  nor  bold  enough 
To  battle  with  the  blast  and  scale  the  granite  bluff. 

One  glowing  August  sun  went  forth  in  might, 
And  smote  with  rosy  sword  each  snowy  brow, 
Bright  accolade  of  grandeur  !     Now,  oh  now 
Amid  that  dazzling  wealth  of  purest  light, 
His  long  ambition  should  be  crowned  at  las- 
And  every  former  goal  rejoicingly  o'erpast. 

For  ere  the  white  fields  softened  in  the  glow, 
He  stood  upon  a  long-wooed  virgin-peak, 
One  of  the  few  fair  prizes  left  to  seek ; 


AN  ALPINE  CLIMBER.  179 

Each  rival  pinnacle  left  far  below  ! 
He  stood  in  triumph  on  the  conquered  height : 
And  yet  a  shadow  fell  upon  his  first  delight. 

For  well  he  knew  that  he  had  surely  done 
His  utmost ;  and  that  never  summer  day 
Could  bring  a  moment  on  its  radiant  way 
Like  the  first  freshness  of  that  conquest,  won 
Where  all  had  lost  before.     A  sudden  tear 
Veiled  all  the  glorious  view,  so  grand,  so  calm,  so  clear  ! 


VII 
LETTERS   TO    MRS.  HAVERGAL, 

OF  PYRMONT  VILLA,   LEAMINGTON, 

IN  1873. 


No.  I. 

GRAND  HOTEL,  Paris,  Room  No.  446. 
May  30,  1873.     7  A.M. 

THUS  far  all  safe  and  well ;  but  I  must  begin  at  the 
beginning,  for  the  sake  of  M.  and  E.,  who  will  like  de- 
tails. We  started  May  28,  in  the  morning,  went  to  the 
Lord  Warden  at  Dover,  and  crossed  to  Calais  by  the 
9.35  boat.  Un  beau  del  enough,  brilliant  sun  ;  but,  alas ! 
no  enjoyment  of  it,  as  we  were  all  ill. 

The  gangway  on  to  the  steamer  happened  to  be 
pitched  unusually  steeply,  so  that  it  was  quite  an  inter- 
esting speculation  to  Amy  and  me,  whether  Mrs.  S. 
would  come  down  or  stay  in  England !  and  the  steamer 
was  tossing  about  very  horribly  ;  but  E.  did  not  hesi- 
tate an  instant  when  her  papa  told  her  to  go  down  it 
with  his  hand.  When  we  got  nearly  to  Calais,  and  Mrs. 
S.,  Ann,  and  I  were  not  sufficiently  recovered  to  stir, 
poor  E.,  who  looked  just  like  a  little  white  ghost,  and 
could  really  hardly  stand-  herself,  would  insist  on  trying 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  181 

to  get  to  each  of  us  with  eau-de-Cologne;  it  was  so 
pretty  to  see  her.  Ann  is  very  sensible,  and  takes  any 
little  inconvenience  more  philosophically  than  I  ever 
expected  a  maid  to  do. 

I  had  an  interesting  talk  with  a  young  railway  official, 
who  came  some  distance  in  our  carriage,  getting  in  with 
cap  off  and  "Pardon,  me sdame s / "  (I  do  so  like  this 
foreign  politeness).  He  was  in  Paris  during  most  of  the 
siege,  and  was  "very  hungry,"  and  "  souffrait  affreuse- 
ment";  at  last,  owing  to  his  railway  position,  he  had  a 
sudden  chance  of  getting  out,  which  he  only  did  that 
his  mother  and  sister  might  have  his  share  of  rations  ; 
then,  when  the  armistice  came,  he  got  into  Paris  by  the 
very  first  train  with  bread  an'd  meat  for  the  "  nitre  et 
sceur,"  and  found  them  both  so  famished  that  they  could 
not  eat  it !  and  it  was  weeks  before  his  mother  could 
digest  a  bit  of  meat,  merely  from  the  derangement  of 
starvation.  He  thinks  this  generation  won't  want  to  go 
to  war  again  !  I  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  the 
death  of  Napoleon.  "  It  was  the  justice  of  God,"  he 
said.  "  Do  you  think  the  Prince  Imperial  will  ever  suc- 
ceed ?"  "Not  just  yet,  but  events  move  in  a  circle, 
and  his  turn  may  come."  He  was  very  bitter  about  the 
war,  saying,  "  And  to  think  that  we  are  all  Christians, 
the  French  and  the  Germans !  "  This  gave  opening  for 
a  little  further  talk  and  a  Gospel  of  St.  John.  He 
seemed  extremely  interested  in  watching  me  mark  a 
number  of  passages  before  giving  it  to  him. 

Ceci  met  us  at  Paris  ;  she  has  found  nice  accommo- 
dation for  Amy  in  the  house  of  a  French  pasteur,  who 
is  to  give  her  lessons  ;  it  is  near  the  Paumiers.  This 
hotel,  the  "Grand,"  is  supposed  to  be  the  finest  in 


1 82  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

Europe  ;  it  is  quite  full,  so  we  had  to  go  "  au  quatri- 
tme."  However,  we  go  up  and  down  in  a  lift,  and  we 
have  rooms  with  balconies,  looking  down  into  a  fine 
boulevard,  and  so  high  up  that  we  see  over  most  of  the 
roofs,  and  get  less  noise  and  dust.  The  inner  court  of 
the  hotel  is  almost  like  an  immense  conservatory,  tree 
rhododendrons  in  full  flower  and  other  things  ;  the 
saloons  are  gorgeous,  with  enormous  crystal  chandeliers 
and  mirror  panels,  so  arranged  as  to  make  the  place 
look  interminable,  quite  a  fairy-land  by  gaslight. 


HOTEL  BELLEVUE,  NEUCHATEL.     Saturday  Evening. 

We  could  not  start  till  twelve,  and  then  went  a  drive 
round  Paris,  which  looks  its  very  best  in  spring  foliage 
and  costumes!  We  went  over  Notre  Dame  with  a  Na- 
poleonist  guide,  who  lost  no  possible  opportunity  of  in- 
stilling Napoleonic  ideas.  "  This  is  the  altar  where  the 
Emperor  was  crowned,  on  the  same  spot  the  Prince  Im- 
perial was  baptized,  and  here  also  he  will  probably  be 
crowned !  "  We  eschewed  pictures,  etc.,  because  a  gen- 
eral idea  of  Paris  was  the  thing  wanted.  After  dinner 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  and  Amy  went  another  two  hours' 
drive  to  the  Champs  Elysees  and  the  Bois  de  Boulogne, 
while  Ceci  and  I  went  a  walk  in  the  Tuileries  gardens. 

Then  comes  an  adventure !  Express  for  Neuchatel 
left  at  eight  P.M.,  and  as  it  ka  long  way  to  the  station 
and  luggage  had  to  be  registered,  we  ought  to  leave  at 
seven,  and  the  omnibus  was  ordered,  but  it  never  came 
till  half-past  seven,  and  then  we  had  to  tear  like  fire- 
engines,  and  got  to  the  station  just  as  the  doors  were 
closing.  Mr.  S.  undertook  the  live  stock,  and  I  the 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  183 

baggage.  "  Too  late,  too  late ! "  raved  four  or  five 
porters.  However,  by  dint  of  most  vehement  pleading 
and  a  little  bribery,  I  got  it  taken  in  and  registered, 
while  as  I  was  obliged  to  have  the  tickets  to  show  for 
this,  Mr.  S.  had  a  tremendous  row  with  the  platform 
officials  because  he  had  not  the  tickets  to  show.  Final- 
ly, they  wanted  to  bundle  Mrs.  S.  and  E.  in,  and  the 
train  was  actually  starting  when  E.  came  to  the  rescue 
by  setting  up  such  a  howl  of  "  I  won't  get  in  without 
papa  ;  you  sha'n't  touch  me !  "  and  such  floods  of  tears, 
that  she  actually  moved  the  stationmaster  to  compas- 
sion, and  he  signalled  the  driver  to  stop  a  minute. 
Meanwhile,  Mr.  S.  by  main  force  held  the  door  of  the 
platform  on  one  side,  while  an  official  struggled  to  close 
it  on  the  other.  Happily  for  me,  English  muscle  beat 
the  French,  and  as  I  ran  with  my  very  utmost  speed  I 
got  inside,  Mr.  S.  loosed  hold,  and  the  door  closed  with 
such  a  slam  behind  me !  Then  we  tumbled  over  each 
other  into  the  carriage,  and  off  for  Neuchatel  (at  least 
so  I  supposed  ;  the  officials  had  told  us  we  were  all 
right  without  change  till  9.40  next  morning). 

For  the  first  hour  a  young  man  sat  by  me,  who  turned 
out  to  be  "ancienne  noblesse,"  son  of  a  due,  a  vehement 
legitimist,  and  apparently  a  leader  among  thirty  thou- 
sand young  men  who  "  have  inscribed  themselves  "  on 
that  side.  He  had  just  been  laid  up  for  a  month 
through  being  wounded  in  a  duel,  a  sword  wound  ;  and 
told  me  without  the  least  compunction  that  his  adver- 
sary had  got  the  worst  of  it,  and  would  not  be  able  to 
walk  for  two  or  three  years !  Yet  he  was  "  bon  Chre- 
tien," and  always  kept  Fridays  and  other  fast  days  !  !  I 
felt  so  sorry  for  him,  for  he  was  a  fine,  intelligent  fellow, 


1 84  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

but  did  not  seem  to  have  a  glimmering  of  right  and 
wrong  !  He  turned  out  somewhere  about  Fontainebleau, 
and  then  we  settled  for  the  night  (carriage  to  ourselves). 
E.  proposed  having  prayers,  so  Mr.  S.  read  a  psalm  and 
prayed.  About  3.45  A.M.  I  roused  up,  and  thought 
somehow  the  country  looked  wrong  (it  was  quite  lig'nt), 
so  I  sat  up  in  some  anxiety  for  the  next  station.  It  came  : 
Chalons-sur-Saone !  on  the  line  to  Lyons  and  Mar- 
seilles !  So  I  called  to  the  stationmaster  to  know  what 
was  to  be  done  ;  our  party  were  all  asleep,  and  rather 
astonished  to  be  summarily  bundled  out.  On  went  the 
train,  and  imagine  the  Snepps  and  I  standing  in  a  small 
French  station  at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  some  fifty 
miles  out  of  our  route  !  Happily  it  was  superb  weather. 

I  soon  made  out  what  we  could  do,  and  it  was  a  spe- 
cial providence  that  we  roused  when  we  did,  for,  like 
old  Tiffs  harness,  it  "  broke  in  a  'straw'nary  good  place 
dis  yer  time  !  "  and  by  omnibusing  across  the  town  we 
just  caught  a  train  to  D61e,  a  small  town  on  the  Neu- 
chatel  line.  Then  we  proceeded  across  country  for 
three  hours  in  that  serene,  leisurely  way  peculiar  to  con- 
tinental trains,  which  might  allow  of  the  guard  shaking 
hands  with  his  friends  along  the  road.  As  we  all  went 
to  sleep  it  did  not  signify.  At  7.30  we  turned  out  at 
Dole  for  ablutions  and  food. 

Now  just  imagine  Mrs.  Snepp,  etc.,  washing  in  large 
brown  crocks,  with  unbleached  towels,  in  the  back 
room  of  a  small  French  restaurant,  the  extempore 
washing  apparatus  on  one  table,  and  basins  of  coffee 
with  tablespoons  on  the  other  (just  like  Belfort).  How- 
ever, all  was  perfectly  clean,  and  everybody  was  amused 
and  liked  the  novelty.  We  had  to  change  again  at  Pontar- 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  185 

lier,  and  then  a  glorious  two  hours  through  the  Jura 
gorge,  which  I  never  appreciated  before,  because  I  was 
going  away  instead  of  coming.  Mr.  S.  is  delightful  to 
travel  with,  he  is  so  enthusiastic  about  the  scenery  ;  he 
regularly  shouted  when  we  came  in  sight  of  the  snow 
mountains ! 

We  got  to  Neuchatel  at  three,  after  eighteen  hours' 
journey.  E.  is  extraordinary  ;  she  has  not  flagged  one 
bit  yet,  sleeps  like  a  top,  and  is  in  first-rate  spirits  when- 
ever awake,  and  not  the  least  trouble,  and  seems  to 
have  left  all  her  timidity  behind  her  in  England. 

We  are  at  the  Hotel  Bellevue  here,  where  we  were  in 
1869;  one  of  the  very  choice  Swiss  hotels,  quiet  and 
elegant,  on  the  edge  of  the  lake.  It  is  splendid  weather, 
and  Mont  Blanc  is  perfectly  visible,  and  last  night  (Sun- 
day) was  rosy  in  the  sunset. 

There  are  very  few  people  yet,  but  Mr.  S.  finds  work 
enough  nevertheless  ;  he  had  some  most  serious  conver- 
sations yesterday,  and  seems  to  have  made  a  wonderful 
impression  on  a  Welshman,  an  M.  P.  and  a  dissenter. 
He  seems  so  grateful  for  Mr.  S.'s  talk,  and  is  quite  stag- 
gered in  his  anti-Bible  education  views. 

They  went  to  English  service  in  the  morning,  and  I 
went  to  French  service,  and  dropped  in  for  a  confirma- 
tion .of  about  ninety  girls,  all  dressed  in  black  with  white 
caps  and  white  folded  handkerchiefs  over  them.  Pasteur 
Nagles  preached,  and  it  was  quite  different  to  any 
foreign  sermon  I  ever  heard,  "  Lovest  thou  Me  ?  "  A 
most  touching,  personal,  spiritual  sermon,  not  at  all  the 
usual  oration  style,  but  simple  and  powerful  and  full  of 
scriptural  thought. 

Late  in  the  evening  Mrs.  S.  and  I  went  to  try  and 


186  SWISS  LETTERS. 

find  Madame  Mercier,  the  Swiss  representative  of  the 
Young  Women's  Christian  Association,  but  she  is  gone 
away. 

I  routed  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  up  at  four  o'clock  this 
morning  to  look  at  the  dawn  -on  the  Alps  from  their 
balcony;  it  was  very  lovely,  but  not  the  "real  thing," 
too  distant  for  the  grand  effects.  However,  we  contem- 
plated it  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  and  then  went  to  roost 
again. 


No.  II. 

PENSION  SCHWEIZERHAUS,  LUCERNE.     June  3. 

I  left  off  at  Neuchatel,  Monday.  Well,  we  had  views 
which  I  never  before  believed  in,  of  the  distant  Alps,  all 
the  way  by  train  along  the  lakes  of  Neuchatel  and  Bienne, 
and  down  the  line  to  Berne. 

We  lunched  at  the  Bernerhof,  which  M.  will  remem- 
ber in  1869,  and  then  I  unmercifully  dragged  the  whole 
party  up  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  steps  to  the 
roof.  It  was  so  clear  that  it  was  difficult  to  realize  the 
Jungfrau  as  more  than  ten  or  twelve  miles  off,  though  it 
was  actually  forty-five  as  the  crow  flies,  and  seventy-five 
by  road !  I  believe  Emily  would  wish  to  go  up  Mont 
Blanc  at  once  if  we  proposed  it.  It  is  most  amusing 
how  she  enters  into  the  spirit  of  the  whole  thing,  is  quite 
certain  she  should  be  neither  tired  nor  frightened  to  go 
anywhere,  and  is  quite  grand  in  her  responsibility  for  a 
share  of  the  small  packages,  generally  marching  in  front 
with  me,  with  as  much  as  she  can  carry. 

To  return  to  Berne,  we  took  a  carriage  and  drove 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  187 

about.  Saw  the  bears  and  fed  them,  all  correct ;  waited 
for  the  big  clock  with  its  performances  of  cocks  and 
bears  and  men  with  drums  to  strike  the  hour  ;  arid  went 
into  the  cathedral.  E.  was  very  decided  in  her  Protes- 
tant preference  of  it  to  Notre  Dame  at  Paris,  which  she 
did  not  appear  to  feel  quite  safe  in  ! 

After  a  superb  sunset  we  got  to  Lucerne  at  eight.  I 
had  written  for  rooms  to  the  Schweizerhaus,  a  pension 
strongly  recommended  in  the  guidebooks,  so  the  host 
was  at  the  station  to  meet  us.  I  advise  any  one  staying 
more  than  a  day  at  Lucerne  to  try  this  instead  of  the 
noisy  and  dusty  town  hotels  on  the  quay.  Fancy  a 
house  about  two  hundred  feet  above  the  lake  (ten  min- 
utes' walk  from  the  steamboats),  looking  down  over 
everything,  with  no  break  to  the  lovely  view  of  lake  and 
mountains,  Pilatus  right,  Rigi  left,  and  the  snowy  Titlis 
range  in  the  centre  ;  the  foreground  trees,  etc.,  down  to 
the  lake  ;  a  small  but  pretty  garden,  a  verandah  with 
flower-stands  and  a  balcony  the  same  width  over  it, 
upon  which  all  our  rooms  open. 

Mrs.  S.  rather  needed  a  quiet  morning,  so  she  very 
goodnaturedly  wished  Mr.  S.  and  me  to  "  improve  the 
shining  hours  "  in  some  way.  Unfortunately  Pilatus  is 
still  snowed  up,  so  we  contented  ourselves  with  the 
Rigi,  and  started  by  the  8  A.M.  boat  to  Vitznau  to  go  up 
by  rail !  The  sensation  and  general  effect  are  most  pe- 
culiar. The  "train"  consisted  of  a  single  carriage, 
holding  about  fifty,  with  glass  at  the  two  ends,  but  open 
all  down  the  sides  where  windows  should  be.  Across 
this  are  rows  of  garden  seats,  bass  instead  of  solid  wood, 
all  facing  backwards,  so  that  you  all  look  downhill  as 
you  are  being  pushed  uphill,  and  look  uphill  as  you 


1 88  SWISS  LETTERS. 

come  downhill.  The  engine  comes  out  of  a  den  of  a 
shed,  and  is  hooked  on  behind,  pushing,  not  drawing. 
Such  an  imp  it  looks,  the  drollest  and  most  knowing 
thing  you  ever  saw  in  the  shape  of  machinery,  with  its 
little  boiler  stuck  up  on  end,  and  slanting  forward  like 
the  tower  of  Pisa,  bunting  and  pushing  in  a  most  comi- 
cal way,  as  if  it  were  bending  to  the  strain,  with  a  deter- 
mined shoulder  to  the  wheel.  Underneath  are  the  mas- 
sive cogged  wheels  in  the  middle,  on  which  the  whole 
affair  depends,  locking  into  a  great  toothed  rail  between 
the  two  ordinary  rails.  It  is  impossible  to  help  laugh- 
ing at  the  little  fellow,  as  after  a  very  small  squeal  or 
two  off  he  goes.  But  one  soon  learns  to  respect  him  ! 
The  first  fifty  yards  are  a  gentle  incline,  and  then  comes 
the  first  gradient,  which  produces  what  is  mildly  de- 
scribed as  "sensation !  "  All  at  once  the  carriage  seems 
as  if  it  were  going  to  be  tilted  up  on  end,  and  the  people 
see  over  each  other's  heads  just  like  an  infant  school 
gallery,  and  as  we  "  back  "  uphill,  those  must  be  stolid 
indeed  who  can  refrain  from  some  sort  of  noise  in  ex- 
pression of  astonishment.  I  don't  think  I  ever  was 
more  surprised.  I  expected  some  sort  of  gradual  zig- 
zag, a  steep  incline  of  course,  but  nothing  beyond  a  car- 
riage road  ;  but  this  thing  goes  perfectly  straight  up  a 
hill  steeper  than  any  I  ever  saw  a  wheeled  carriage  at- 
tempt, even  the  Lynton  coaches.  When  you  come  to 
a  station  it  is  quite  queer  to  feel  the  carriage  go  level 
again,  with  an  odd  little  bump  as  the  cog  locks.  The 
views  as  you  rise  are  glorious.  The  rail  is  only  open  to 
Staffelhohe,  nearly  an  hour's  walk  from  the  top,  and 
navvies  are  at  work  on  the  rest.  I  never  was  more  sorry 
for  not  having  brought  more  spiritual  ammunition,  for 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  189 

though  I  had  tracts  and  "portions"  for  about  forty,  it 
was  nothing  like  enough,  and  all  would  have  accepted 
them  had  I  had  more. 

The  upper  part  of  the  Rigi  was  rather  snowy,  and 
somehow  there  is  not  the  same  pleasure  in  getting  one's 
feet  wet  in  commonplace  snow  that  ought  to  be  all  gone 
by  this  time,  as  in  the  real  thing  above  eternal  snow 
level.  It  was  very  calm  and  bright  and  clear,  but  I 
never  can  see  that  panoramic  views  are  so  really  beauti- 
ful as  many  others.  Half  way  up  the  view  is  nearly  al- 
ways the  best.  There  is  a  piano  in  the  inn  at  the  top,  so 
Mr.  S.  must  needs  have  a  hymn  from  "  Songs  of  Grace 
and  Glory,"  and  a  "  Havergal  Psalmody  "  tune,  on  it,  at 
5,900  hundred  feet  high. 

We  only  stayed  about  an  hour,  and  then  came  down 
by  the  Weggis  path,  which  we  did  in  a  dense  fog  in 
1869.  Near  the  top  the  gentians,  large  and  small,  were 
in  full  beauty,  and  often  on  the  very  edge  of  snow 
patches. 

The  weather  has  quite  suddenly  cleared  up.  It  was 
bitterly  cold  at  Lucerne  last  week,  and  it  snowed  on  the 
Rigi  on  Saturday,  so  that  on  Sunday  morning  there  were 
three  feet  of  snow  !  and  on  Tuesday  gentians  and  posi- 
tive heat !  Just  below  the  top  we  turned  out  of  the 
path  on  to  a  lovely  green  plateau  where  the  view  is  mag- 
nificent ;  and  here  we  knelt  on  the  very  gentians,  and 
Mr.  S.  prayed,  or  rather  adored.  It  was  so  nice.  It 
was  a  pretty  fair  first  walk,  being  a  spin  of  nine  miles 
down,  not  reckoning  the  hour's  walk  up  ;  but  I  hardly 
know  anything  lovelier  in  Switzerland,  which  is  saying 
a  good  deal. 

We  went  out  for  a  nice  drive  in  the  evening  with  Mrs. 


igo  SWISS  LETTERS. 

S.  and  E.,  and  saw  the  Lion,  and  drove  up  to  the  Pen- 
sion Wallis,  where  the  Queen  stayed  some  days,  a  quiet, 
unpretending  house,  quite  five  hundred  feet  above  the 
lake. 

Wednesday. — This  morning  we  all  set  off  by  the  8 
A.M.  boat  down  the  lake.  For  the  benefit  of  those  who 
have  not  been,  I  may  elegantly  describe  the  lake  as 
three  great  sausages,  the  top  sausage  having  two  great 
arms  !  You  sail  out  through  a  charming  little  strait  into 
sausage  No.  2,  and  seem  to  be  quite  in  a  new  lake  ; 
and  the  same,  only  going  sharp  at  right  angles,  into  No. 
3.  The  morning  .was  beautiful ;  no  wind,  and  bright 
sun  ;  water,  deep  emerald.  Just  after  entering  sausage 
No.  3,  Mr.  S.  called  our  attention  to  what  looked  like  a 
most  lovely  rippling  line  of  emerald  and  silver,  about 
half  a  mile  ahead.  At  the  same  moment  the  steamer 
men  rushed  on  deck  and  hauled  down  the  awnings,  and 
in  about  a  minute,  just  like  a  shot,  the  famous  fohnwind 
was  down  upon  us.  We  had  just  had  some  tea,  and  it 
blew  a  heavy  cup  and  saucer  clear  off  the  table  ;  every- 
thing loose  went  flying ;  the  lake  was  covered  with 
green  and  white  waves  all  at  once.  The  men  helped 
the  ladies  down  the  stairs  off  the  top-deck,  and  cleared 
away  every  footstool  and  loose  seat,  even  turning  a  great 
strong  table  on  its  back  with  legs  up,  or  that  would 
have  been  blown  over  too  !  It  must  be  awfully  danger- 
ous for  little  sailing  boats.  I  never  saw  one  of  these 
curious  lake  storms  before,  and  though  not  in  the  very 
least  dangerous  for  a  great  steamer,  yet  it  was  most 
disagreeable,  and  on  the  return  journey  quite  upset  me 
for  a  little  while.  I  could  not  have  imagined  such 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  191 

waves  on  a  lake,  and  it  certainly  gave  new  force  to  the 
storm  on  Galilee.  We  drove  from  Fluellen  a  few  miles 
along  the  opening  of  the  St.  Gothard  pass,  so  well  de- 
scribed as  "  solemnly  beautiful  "  ;  the  enjoyment  was  a 
little  spoiled  by  the  wind  which  came  tearing  down  the 
pass,  raising  dense  clouds  of  dust.  Mr.  S.,  however, 
was  in  raptures,  to  my  heart's  content. 


No.  III. 

HOTEL  JUNGFRAUBLICK,  INTERLACHEN.     June  6. 

We  left  Lucerne  yesterday  morning  9.40  (Thursday), 
under  very  doubtful  appearances  ;  Pilatus  wrapped  up 
in  grey  clouds,  air  damp  and  warm,  and  drizzle  most 
of  the  morning.  Still  it  was  a  new  aspect  of  the  pretty 
arm  of  the  lake  down  which  we  steamed  to  Alpnacht 
(11.20). 

The  whole  ride  was  charming,  from  11.30  to  6.0,  but 
the  pass  of  the  Brttnig  is  exquisite.  You  wind  up  for 
an  hour  and  a  half,  mostly  through  trees  now  in  full 
beauty,  with  changing  views  first  of  the  great  valley 
behind  you,  then  of  a  glorious  opening  upon  the  lake 
of  Brienz  deep  below,  then  of  smaller  mountain  valleys, 
and  then  of  the  white  Oberland  Alps  and  the  grand 
valley  of  Meyringen.  It  had  rained  for  a  good  while, 
and  we  feared  it  was  hopeless  for  anything  but  driving 
up  into  grey  clouds,  when  just  as  we  began  the  ascent 
it  left  off,  and  kept  fair  all  the  way  over  the  pass.  Oddly 
enough  it  is  the  second  time  I  have  gone  over  the  Brunig 


192  SWISS  LETTERS. 

with  the  hope  of  staying  at  the  top,  which  was  part  of 
our  plan  ;  it  does  seem  such  a  pity  to  halt  hardly  five 
minutes,  for  one  of  the  finest  views  in  Switzerland,  and 
then  tear  downhill  again.  If  we  could  have  been  cer- 
tain of  the  weather,  I  think  we  should  have  stayed.  We 
had  great  fun  in  hoisting  Mrs.  S.  up  to  the  banquette, 
for  the  spin  downhill  (only  an  hour)  ;  it  was  something 
quite  new  to  see  her  perched  up  in  that  style.  I  believe 
she  did  it  as  much  to  entertain  us  as  anything,  which 
was  very  amiable  of  her. 

The  next  possibility  was  to  stay  at  the  Giessbach  falls 
at  6.30,  and  remain  the  night  to  see  them  illuminated, 
but  unhappily  it  came  on  to  rain  again,  so  we  steamed 
down  the  lake  of  Brienz  to  Interlachen,  which  we  reach- 
ed at  7.30.  We  are  at  my  beautiful  hotel;  the  card 
gives  no  idea  of  the  views  which  are  all  around,  so  that 
there  are  no  back  and  front  rooms,  but  all  have  fine 
views.  I  have  just  been  a  little  walk  up  the  Niesen  with 
Mr.  S.  and  E.  ;  it  is  a  glorious  morning  after  the  rain, 
only  the  Jungfrau  wears  her  veil  of  bright  cloud,  and  I 
have  only  once  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  shining  silver 
horn.  But  all  the  rest  is  as  lovely  as  can  be.  It  is  very 
warm  ;  too  hot  to  go  far  out  of  the  shade.  I  am  writing 
out  of  doors  on  the  terrace  facing  the  Scheinige  Platte 
and  the  lake  of  Brienz.  I  am  so  astonished  at  Mr. 
Snepp's  French  ;  he  never  gave  me  a  notion  that  he 
knew  a  word,  and  now  he  comes  out  with  all  that  is 
wanted  for  travelling  or  hotel  talk  quite  fluently,  and 
with  a  very  good  accent.  But  here  French  is  no  use  at 
all ;  only  German.  He  has  a  little  pocket  aneroid  ba- 
rometer, which  shows  the  height  above  sea  level  exactly ; 
it  is  so  interesting. 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  193 

June  7.  Saturday. — Yesterday  afternoon  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  S.  and  E.  went  to  the  Giessbach  falls  ;  I  stayed 
quiet,  as  I  have  not  yet  taken  a  blank  day  since  leaving 
home,  and  I  wanted  to  be  very  fresh  for  an  early  mount- 
ain start  this  morning  to  the  Scheinige  Platte.  We  had  all 
arranged  overnight,  guide  and  provisions  ;  but  it  turned 
out  a  set-in  soaking  rain,  with  not  merely  the  mountains 
covered  with  cloud,  but  the  lower  hills  wreathed  about 
with  white  veils  almost  down  to  the  lake  level. 


HOTEL  ROYAL,  CHAMOUNI,  HAUTE  SAVOIE,  FRANCE. 
June  14.     Saturday  evening  ! 

Actually  not  a  line  written  for  a  whole  week  ;  but 
when  I  detail  proceedings  you  will  not  be  surprised 
that  I  found  no  time  for  writing.  June  the  8th  was  a 
queer  Sunday,  for  though  the  whole  place  is  Protestant, 
there  is  not  a  pretence  at  Sabbath  observance,  and  the 
great  annual  shooting  match  of  the  canton  Berne,  last- 
ing a  week,  began  on  Sunday  at  6  A.M.  by  firing  twenty- 
two  cannons,  one  for  each  canton.  The  whole  place  was 
decorated  with  any  amount-of  arches  and  other  green 
erections,  with  mottoes  and  devices  and  flags  innumer- 
able, especially  all  over  the  hotels,  both  roofs  and  win- 
dows, while  Swiss  costumes  thronged  the  streets  and 
roads.  As  we  went  to  church  another  cannonade  of 
twenty-two  rounds  came  off  close  by,  so  that  we  had 
literally  to  pass  the  cannons'  mouths,  and  the  rifle  shoot- 
ing begins  witji  an  occasional  cannonade. 

Our  quiet  sweet  Communion  service  was  a  strange 
contrast  to  the  scenes  and  noise  outside.  The  reverbe- 
ration of  the  cannon  among  the  mountains  was  wonder- 
13 


IQ4  SWISS  LETTERS. 

ful.  I  must  tell  you  about  little  E.'s  first  missionary 
work,  it  was  so  very  nice  of  her  and  entirely  unprompt- 
ed. A  German  lady  in  the  hotel  was  a  Protestant,  but 
her  husband  a  Belgian  Romanist ;  they  had  one  little 
girl,  a  most  clever  child,  eight  years  old,  speaking  not 
only  French  and  German,  but  English  too  with  great 
fluency.  She  and  E.  played  together  all  Saturday  ;  and 
then,  overhearing  us  talk  about  this  poor  little  child 
being  brought  up  a  Romanist,  which  of  course  the 
priests  had  taken  care  to  secure,  E.  got  most  interested 
and  anxious.  "  Won't  you  give*  her  a  little  tract  ?  " 
"Won't  you  talk  to  her?  "  "Won't  you  tell  her  not  to 
play  with  her  dolls  on  Sunday?  "  So  all  Sunday  E.  was  in 
a  fever  to  get  hold  of  her,  and  succeeded  at  last  in 
bringing  her  up  to  my  room  with  an  air  of  great  delight. 
So  the  little  girls  sat  on  each  side  of  me,  and  we  had 
quite  a  nice  talk,  little  Celestine  quite  pleased  and  in- 
terested, and  Emily  playing  into  my  hands  in  a  very 
pretty  way  and  quite  helping  me.  However,  as  I  did 
not  say  anything  about  the  dolls,  E.  did  that  herself  be- 
fore going  to  bed,  and  also  gave  Celestine  a  little  Gos- 
pel of  St.  John.  E.  enters  most  eagerly  into  distribution, 
comes  to  me  for  Gospels  for  waiters  and  chamber-maids, 
and  constantly  asks  me  to  give  them  to  drivers  or  rail- 
way guards. 

Monday,  June  9,  dawned  promisingly,  so  we  post- 
poned Grindelwald  till  the  afternoon,  and  Mr.  S.  and  I 
went  up  the  Scheinige  Platte,  starting  about  6.30  ;  as  it 
is  five  hours  up  (six  thousand  feet),  and  we  were  not 
fully  in  training,  we  had  a  horse,  professedly  between 
us,  but  I  had  the  lion's  share.  The  Platte  was  quite  a 
surprise  to  me  ;  it  is  not  an  inviting-looking  hill,  a  steep, 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  195 

sharp-edged  ridge,  overlooking  Interlachen,  ascended 
by  a  path  of  three  hundred  zigzags  through  a  steep  for- 
est ;  then  another  thousand  feet  among  singular  rocks 
and  along  the  edge  of  sublime  precipices  (sheer  down 
three  thousand  feet)  and  a  cone  of  grass,  flowers,  and 
snow ;  and  then  you  see  on  the  north  the  whole  of  the 
lovely  lakes  of  Thun  and  Brienz  ;  and  south,  a  superb 
snow  amphitheatre  :  Wetterhorn,  Jungfrau,  Eiger,  etc., 
with  the  two  valleys  of  Grindelwald  and  Lauterbrunnen 
forking  out  in  green  depth  of  beauty  several  thousand 
feet  below  you. 

It  was  fine  and  calm,  and  the  grand  snow  range  had 
just  enough  of  cloud  hanging  about  it  to  enhance  the 
brilliance  of  the  snow  and  the  mysterious  effect  which 
those  untrodden  vastnesses  always  have  more  or  less. 
We  stayed  about  half  an  hour  on  the  top  to  enjoy  the 
view  and  the  cold  meat  and  red  wine !  and  then  scam- 
pered down,  rather  aggrieved  to  find  that  the  horse  and 
guide  were  great  hindrances  to  speed.  We  started  as 
soon  as  possible  for  Grindelwald,  a  grand  drive  of  fif- 
teen miles,  in  two  little  carriages. 


No.  IV. 

HOTEL  ROYAL,  CHAMOUNI.     June  16. 

I  left  off  No.  III.  at  Grindelwald,  Monday,  June  9. 
My  second  impressions  of  Grindelwald  are  far  beyond 
my  first.  I  cannot  think  how  it  was  that  it  did  not 
make  more  impression  on  me  in  1869.  I  had  no  idea 


1 96  S IVISS  LE  TTERS. 

it  was  so  beautiful :  three  immense  mountains,  Wetter- 
horn,  Mettenberg,  and  Eiger,  close  to  and  full  before 
one,  with  a  grand  snow  view  of  the  Viescherhorner 
through  the  glacier  opening  between  them. 

Our  arrangement  usually  is  that  Mr.  S.  and  I  go  off 
for  an  early  excursion  or  walk,  then  Mrs.  S.  and  Emily 
get  more  rest. 

So  on  Tuesday.  Mr.  S.  and  I  started  about  six,  with 
the  most  stupid  guide  I  ever  had,  for  the  Eismeer,  the 
Grindelwald  Mer  de  Glace.  Of  course  I  got  my  boots 
nailed  overnight,  very  knowing-looking  pyramid-shaped 
nails,  which  stick  well  into  snow  or  smooth  grass,  and 
give  a  good  cling  to  the  foot  when  the  slope  is  very 
steep ;  they  are  put  in  about  an  inch  apart.  The  way 
was  a  little  footpath  under  colossal  rocks  overhanging 
the  edge  of  the  glacier,  and  rising  steeply  till  it  brought 
us  up  to  a  level  of  5,500  feet.  From  this  point  we  looked 
down  on  a  great  basin  of  dirty  ice,  all  over  de'bris  washed 
down  from  the  heights.  The  motion  of  the  glaciers  is 
very  wonderful ;  the  whole  mass  moves  down  bodily,  at 
rates  varying  on  different  glaciers  from  ten  or  twelve  to 
four  hundred  feet  per  annum.  The  new  snow  keeps 
forming  it  above,  and  at  the  valley  end  it  keeps  melting 
and  breaking  away  as  it  reaches  the  warmer  level.  It  is 
a  strong  illustration  of  the  might  of  silent  influence ; 
only  the  warm  air,  invisible  and  intangible  ;  yet  it  forms 
an  impassable  barrier  to  these  millions  of  tons  of  solid 
ice,  which  must  otherwise  pour  down  into  the  valleys 
and  destroy  all  life.  But  the  basin  of  dirty  ice  (two  or 
three  miles  in  extent)  was  not  all  we  came  to  see.  It 
was  bounded  by  a  magnificent  and  dazzling  amphi- 
theatre of  snow,  with  only  a  protuberant  dark  rock  here 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  197 

and  there  to  throw  up  the  brilliant  whiteness,  running 
up  to  over  eleven  thousand  feet  high  ;  while  the  en- 
trance of  the  gorge  down  which  the  glacier  pours  to  the 
valley  below  is  a  great  rock  portal,  of  which  the  right 
doorpost  consists  of  the  celebrated  precipice  of  the 
Eiger,  which  goes  sheer  up  (too  nearly  perpendicular 
for  snow  to  cover)  to  more  than  twelve  thousand  feet 
high. 

Then  we  had  a  very  stiff  scramble  of  perhaps  three 
hundred  feet  down  to  the  glacier  itself ;  and  here,  but 
for  God's  providence  and  Mr.  S.'s  watchfulness,  I  should 
have  had  a  serious  accident.  Part  of  the  descent  was 
by  two  rough  ladders  against  the  face  of  the  rock  ;  the 
first  was  easy,  but  the  second  not  only  long,  but  very 
steep  indeed.  The  guide  went  first,  and  most  culpably 
never  warned  me  that  the  handrail  of  the  ladder,  con- 
sisting of  two  very  long  slender  pine  poles,  pierced  half 
way,  was  broken,  so  that  the  end  of  the  upper  pole  was 
loose  and  ended  in  mid-air.  Down  I  went  (backwards), 
one  hand  adjusting  my  dress,  and  the  other  holding  fast 
to  the  rail.  As  I  could  not  see  from  above  that  it  was 
broken,  and  suspected  no  danger,  I  was  going  comfort- 
ably down,  face  to  the  rock,  and  in  another  minute 
should  have  come  to  the  sudden  end  of  the  rail  to  which 
I  was  trusting,  when  nothing  but  a  miracle  could  have 
preserved  me  from  a  very  severe  fall  of  many  feet  on  to 
the  boulders  below ;  but  Mr.  S.  suddenly  saw  and 
shouted  to  me  to  stop  ;  I  instantly  did  so,  and  looking 
behind  saw  the  broken  rail  in  time  not  to  trust  it  further. 
We  went  some  distance  over  the  glacier,  and  had  the 
satisfaction  of  hearing  several  avalanches,  and  seeing 
one  rather  good  one.  My  notion  of  an  avalanche  al- 


I98  SWISS  LETTERS. 

ways  used  to  be  a  gigantic  snowball  bounding  down,  but 
they  are  really  rather  a  snow  fall,  just  like  a  waterfall, 
only  snow  This  one  started  high  up,  and  poured  over 
several  ledges  of  rock  in  succession,  till  it  reached  the 
edge  of  the  glacier,  where  it  formed  in  three  minutes  a 
great  mound  of  snow,  I  should  think  thirty  or  forty  feet 
high  ;  the  roar  lasted  nearly  five  minutes.  It  was  rather 
pretty  and  elegant  than  grand,  to  see  it  come  down. 
From  the  glacier  we  could  see  the  ridge  where  the  Rev. 
Julius  Elliott  was  killed  in  1869,  within  half  an  hour  of 
the  summit  of  the  Schreckhorn  (Horn  of  Terror). 

We  got  to  the  hotel  again  at  11.30,  and  then  went  all 
together  to  see  Mr.  E.'s  grave.  There  is  a  granite  slab 
over  it,  and  a  tablet  against  the  church  wall  with  Heb. 
xi.  5,  "  For  before  his  translation,"  etc.,  and  "  To  depart 
and  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better."  The  Grindel- 
wald  people  keep  it  in  order  themselves,  and  keep 
"edelweiss"  planted  round  it,  the  Alpine  flower  par  ex- 
cellence, which  is  never  found  below  eight  thousand 
feet. 

In  the  afternoon  we  drove  to  Lauterbrunnen  ;  un- 
fortunately the  Jungfrau  was  clouded,  so  we  lost  the 
special  beauty  of  the  valley.  We  pottered  about  up  and 
down  the  village  and  to  the  Staubbach  ;  and  th,en  I  put 
some  knowing  guides  up  to  beguiling  Mrs.  S.  into  just 
trying  a  chaise  &  porteur,  which  previously  she  would 
not  hear  of,  and  at  last  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her 
trotted  out  in  one.  This  led  to  arranging  for  a  small 
expedition  next  morning,  which  was  to  pave  the  way  for 
something  better. 

Wednesday,  June  u,  accordingly  we  had  a  walk 
(about  three  miles)  to  the  Trumlenbach,  along  the  val- 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  IQ9 

ley,  spending  most  of  the  way  in  arguments  and  per- 
suasions for  Murren,  which  Mr.  S.  and  I  were  to  have 
done  alone,  but  which  it  would  have  been  a  thousand 
pities  for  Mrs.  S.  to  have  missed.  At  last,  to  my  exul- 
tation, we  won  the  cause,  and  Mrs.  S.  consented  to  come 
up  to  Murren  for  the  night,  seeing  that  the  porte-chaise 
somewhat  exceeded  her  expectations.  So  we  started 
directly  after  lunch  and  took  it  easy,  and  by  6.30  found 
ourselves  at  the  pretty  new  inn,  5,500  feet  high. 

Though  a  fine  and  promising  afternoon  we  got  neither 
sunset  nor  sunrise,  i.e.  veiled  mountains  and  no  tints  at 
all.  Still,  unless  absolutely  buried  in  clouds,  Murren 
must  always  be  grand,  the  mountains  look  more  colossal 
and  majestic  than  trom  any  other  place.  It  is  just  the 
right  height  to  get  the  double  effect  of  depth  and  height, 
the  valley  below  so  near  and  deep,  and  the  giants  op- 
posite so  close  and  precipitous.  I  enjoyed  getting  up 
into  the  colder  mountain  air  ;  it  is  different  from  valley 
cold,  and  seems  to  brace  and  exhilarate  without  chill- 
ing. 

Though  Milrren  was  unknown  not  many  years  ago, 
there  is  now  a  good-sized  new  hotel,  with  two  "  depen- 
dances  "  besides,  and  an  immense  new  rival  is  nearly 
finished,  and  there  is  talk  of  a  railway  up  like  the  Rigi! 
Dreadful  as  that  sounds,  one  really  can't  be  selfish 
enough  to  grudge  any  means  of  facilitating  the  ascent, 
so  that  thousands  may  share  the  sublime  view.  Any 
.one  who  has  not  been  there  will  hardly  understand  the 
fact  that,  with  this  indescribably  splendid  mountain 
view,  one  is  really  distracted  from  it  at  almost  every  step 
by  the  flowers.  No  description  can  exaggerate  these, 
either  as  to  variety,  loveliness,  brilliance  of  colour,  or 


SWISS  LETTERS. 


number.  The  whole  place  is  one  mass  of  flowers,  thicker 
than  ever  you  saw  the  thickest  daisy  or  buttercup  field 
of  monotonous  yellow  or  white.  Here  and  there  in 
patches  some  special  flower  predominates,  but  generally 
all  are  mixed  up  together,  perhaps  twenty  species  in  a 
square  yard,  and  most  of  the  colours  intensely  brilliant. 
I  think  we  must  have  gone  at  the  right  time  exactly,  for 
I  do  not  remember  quite  such  splendour  in  1869.  Chief 
of  all  for  attraction  are  the  forget-me-nots,  much  brighter 
and  larger  than  the  English  ones,  whole  spikes  of  living 
turquoise  waving  by  myriads,  then  gentians  and  pansies, 
and  large  exquisite  primrose-coloured  anemones,  and 
smaller  white  ones,  and  pink  primula-like  clusters,  and 
purple  bells  most  delicately  fringed,  and  intense  blue 
starflowers  with  a  clear  white  eye,  called  "  heaven  flow- 
ers," and  dozens  of  others.  I  brought  in  a  nosegay 
which  Mr.  S.  said  was  fit  for  a  queen,  only  a  queen 
could  not  purchase  such  a  one  unless  she  came  to  TVIur- 
ren  to  get  it ;  for  they  always  fade  long  before  we  can 
get  down  to  the  valley  again.  However,  even  below 
there  is  a  wealth  of  flowers  which  one  never  sees  in  En- 
gland, only  just  a  little  commoner  than  this  lovely  aris- 
tocracy of  flowers  up  above,  so  delicate  and  noble.  It 
is  worth  any  one's  while  to  go  early  to  Switzerland  to 
see  them  ;  no  one  would  believe  it  who  only  goes  in 
July  and  August. 

Sleeping  at  Miirren  gave  a  fine  chance  for  Mr.  S.  and 
me  to  go  up  the  Schilthorn  (nearly  10,000  feet),  the  finest 
non-dangerous  ascent  in  the  Oberland.  So  we  commit* 
ted  ourselves  to  a  good  guide,  who  put  us  through  a 
catechism  as  to  our  capabilities  and  equipments,- insist- 
ing on  gaiters,  veils,  and  dark  spectacles,  without  either 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  2OI 

of  which  three  he  refused  to  take  us!  As  Mr.  S.  had 
no  veil,  the  guide  first  suggested  that  it  would  answer 
equally  well  to  wet  the  face  thoroughly  and  then  bloxv 
flour  over  it !  Fancy  being  done  up  in  paste  previous 
to  being  baked  in  the  sun  !  But  he  said  any  Anglais 
would  have  his  face  skinned  if  he  went  up  the  Schilt- 
horn  without  either  veil  or  flour  and  water.  As  Mr.  S. 
did  not  see  the  beauty  of  the  latter  plan,  he  offered  to 
lend  him  a  veil,  and  produced  one,  probably  green  orig- 
inally, but  resolved  by  weather  and  wear  into  its  con- 
stituents of  blue  and  yellow  with  a  little  surviving 
green.  This  he  fastened  on  Mr.  S.'s  white  hat  in  a 
style  that  would  astonish  Perry  Barr.  Then  he  agreed 
to  call  us  at  two  A.M.  and  departed.  So  at  two  A.M.  up 
we  got,  and  soon  after  2.30  had  coffee,  turning  out,  to 
poor  Mrs.  S.'s  utter  horror,  a  little  before  three.  I1 
was  cloudy  and  dark,  but  quite  hopeful,  and  might  ye? 
be  magnificent.  We  toiled  up  for  two  hours,  vainlj 
hoping  that  a  tantalizing  glimpse  or  two  of  a  speck  of 
gleaming  snow  apparently  up  in  the  clouds  might  ex- 
pand into  a  revelation  of  the  whole  range  in  dawn- 
beauty,  but  soon  after  we  came  to  the  first  snow  even 
that  disappeared,  and  the  clouds  came  down  upon  us 
with  a  very  cool  welcome  to  their  domain. 

We  plunged  on  over  a  snow  slope  or  two  in  pouring 
rain,  and  then  the  guide  faced  round,  and  after  an  om- 
inous silence  declared  his  mind,  viz,  that  it  was  a  great 
mortification  and  disappointment  to  him  to  fail,  but  he 
must  tell  us  candidly  that  we  must  give  up  ;  the  rain 
was  hopeless,  and  had  already  so  softened  the  snow  that 
it  would  be  entirely  impossible  for  any  mortal  to  get  to 
the  top,  and  we  might  as  well  turn  back  at  once  as 


SWISS  LETTERS. 


struggle  on  for  five  hours  more  and  then  be  defeated. 
Decision  is  always  better  than  uncertainty,  so  we  scam- 
pered down  again  as  fast  as  we  could,  and  went  to  bed 
at  6.30,  while  our  clothes  were  dried.  It  was  a  great 
disappointment  to  both  of  us,  for  the  Schilthorn  is  a 
first-rate  thing  to  do. 

Happily  it  cleared  up  splendidly  by  eight  at  Miirren, 
though  the  Schilthorn  remained  wrapped  in  dense  rain 
clouds.  So  after  breakfast  we  had  a  very  pleasant, 
though  dirty,  trot  down  again  to  Lauterbrunnen. 

After  some  hurried  soup  we  drove  off  to  Interlachen, 
where  the  chief  impediments  (rightly  so  named)  had 
been  left,  and,  after  a  fatiguing  scramble  of  packing  and 
washerwomen  and  small  bills,  got  off  to  the  train  which 
now,  instead  of  omnibuses,  meets  the  Thun  steamers. 
It  is  a  delightful  little  two-mile  railway,  with  covered 
seats  on  the  top  of  all  the  carriages,  just  from  Inter- 
lachen to  the  landing  place.  We  lost  the  lovely  lake  of 
Thun,  just  as  in  1869  ;  not  a  mountain  top  to  be  seen, 
driving  rain  all  the  way,  and  wind  and  motion  enough 
to  make  us  uncomfortable.  We  got  to  Berne  (same 
hotel  as  in  1860)  between  seven  and  eight,  a  tiring  day. 

Next  day,  Friday,  rail  from  Berne  to  Geneva,  rain 
most  of  the  way,  so  that  we  could  see  little  of  the  views, 
which  ought  to  be  very  interesting.  Saturday  (June 
14)  was  just  fair  enough  to  justify  starting,  and  at  7.15 
we  mounted  one  of  those  wonderful  "  diligences  invers- 
ables  "  which  are  peculiar  to  this  one  road.  They  con- 
sist of  a  gigantic  coffin  below,  which  holds  any  quantity 
of  luggage,  and  acts  as  ballast  to  the  whole  concern. 
Then  over  this  are  five  rows  of  seats,  rising  behind  each 
other  like  a  deep  gallery,  so  that  twenty  people  (on 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  203 

emergency  twenty-five)  can  all  have  a  full  front  view  at 
once.  There  is  a  peculiar  board  just  over  the  horses' 
tails,  on  which  two  or  three  extra  of  the  aborigines  can 
sit  if  needs  be,  but  the  passengers'  seats  are  luxurious 
with  red  velvet.  Over  our  heads  is  a  sort  of  canopy 
stretching  across  glazed  sides  ;  if  neither  wet  nor  sunny 
this  canopy  can  be  rolled  back  altogether,  and  as  the 
whole  of  the  glass  sides  can  be  let  down,  it  then  be- 
comes an  entirely  open  carriage,  all  except  the  coupe, 
which  is  boxed  in  at  the  very  back  with  the  worst  view 
and  the  least  air,  and  for  which  the  wise  English  pay  a 
good  deal  extra,  in  order  to  keep  themselves  to  them- 
selves and  avoid  the  01  TroAAoz.  We  had  the  whole 
front  row,  and  I  enjoyed  it  extremely. 

But,  alas !  the  grand  views  of  Mont  Blanc  all  clouded 
over,  and  finished  up  with  a  wet  evening.  I  was  par- 
ticularly sorry  for  this,  because  the  drive  up  to  Cha- 
mouni  is  unsurpassable,  and  I  think  gives  the  finest 
"  first  impression  "  of  Mont  Blanc.  The  Swiss  tell  me 
that  the  weather  for  the  last  year  or  two  has  never  been 
settled,  and  has  baffled  the  calculations  of  the  oldest 
guides.  We  had  decided  on  the  Hotel  Imperial,  and 
went,  found  the  front  door  open  and  walked  in,  but  rang 
bells  in  vain,  and  then  discovered  that  it  was  void, 
nothing  "  open  "  except  the  entrance  !  It  was  so  funny. 
Two  others  looked  "  fermes  "  also,  so  we  went  to  the 
Royal  and  got  a  very  cheerful  set  of  rooms  with  good 
view,  having  choice  of  nearly  all  the  rooms  in  the  house, 
as  it  is  so  early  yet  for  Chamouni.  We  all  agree,  how- 
ever, that,  though  too  early  for  high  mountain  excursions, 
it  is  much  better  on  the  whole  than  later,  less  heat  and 
dust,  cleaned-up  rooms  everywhere,  always  a  choice  of 


204  SWISS  LETTERS. 

apartments,  much  better  attendance  than  when  all  is 
full,  less  noise  and  bustle,  no  crowded  carriages,  and  the 
glorious  Alpine  flowers  !  It  was  quite  pleasant  to  set- 
tle in  'here,  after  sleeping  in  different  hotels  for  eight 
consecutive  nights,  and  the  last  three  days  were  more 
fatiguing  than  excursions,  being  travel,  which  implies 
"  baggages  et  billets,"  and  the  still  greater  evils  of 
smaller  boxes,  baskets,  and  bags,  not  to  mention  shawls, 
umbrellas,  parasols,  and  alpenstocks. 

Nothing  like  a  carpet-bag  tour,  with  no  packing  and 
unpacking  and  registering  and  looking  after  and  carry- 
ing about  and  counting  up  to  do  ! 

It  was  nice  to  find  a  notice  up,  that,  for  those  who 
missed  family  prayer,  the  chaplain,  Rev.  J.  F.  Bicker- 
dike,  would  hold  it  every  evening,  at  8.30,  in  the  read 
ing  room.  So  of  course  we  went,  only  "  two  or  three,' 
but  it  was  very  nice.  Mr.  B.  is  very  earnest  and  spirit 
ually  minded  ;  and  Mrs.  B.  very  nice  too.  She  was 
at  Mr.  Pennefather's  Deaconess  Institution  for  some 
time,  and  has  told  us  a  good  deal  about  Mildmay.  She 
says  that  every  one  appeared  to  have  been  impressed 
with  the  singular  heavenliness  of  Mr.  P.  during  his  last 
year.  For  many  months  before  his  death  his  special 
anxiety  and  interest  had  been  prayer  for  real  spiritual 
blessing  upon  the  immense  amount  of  machinery  and 
organization  which  he  had  completed ;  work  and 
workers  all  marvellously  organized,  and  then  his  one 
thought  seemed  to  be  seeking  for  blessing  upon  it  all. 

Sunday,  June  15,  was  a  brilliant  morning  ;  Mont 
Blanc  dazzling,  though  less  grand  from  Chamouni  itself 
than  from  any  other  point  of  view  ;  one  is  too  close 
under  it  to  form  any  idea  of.  its  height.  The  little  English 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  205 

church  was  bright  and  cheerful  ;  every  one  likes  it  bet- 
ter than  almost  any  other  Sunday  halt ;  and  somehow 
they  always  manage  to  have  excellent  chaplains,  who  do 
not  chill  one  by  reading  commonplace  little  sermons 
which  were  produced  under  totally  different  circum- 
stances. It  must  be  a  poverty-stricken  heart  indeed, 
which  can't  speak  out  of  its  abundance  in  Switzerland. 
There  is  a  small  harmonium,  which  1  played  in  the 
morning:  Tallis,  Worcester  Chant,  and  Farrant  for 
chants  ;  Nottingham  to  "  This  is  the  day  the  Lord  hath 
made  "  ;  and  "Hanover  to  "  O  worship  the  King  all 
glorious  above." 

The  responding  and  singing  were  capital,  though  the 
congregation  only  about  eighty.  There  are  a  few 
French  Protestant  families  here,  who  are  visited  twice  a 
year  by  a  distant  pasteur  ;  so  Mr.  B.,  who  is  a  thorough 
French  scholar,  kindly  visits  and  gathers  them  to  a  little 
French  service,  at  7  P.M.  (English  p.M.service  is  at  four), 
but  after  this  is  going  to  have  them  at  9  A.M.  because 
that  will  suit  them  better.  There  is  Holy  Communion 
every  Sunday  morning.  There  was  quite  a  nice  gather- 
ing at  the  8.30  P.M.  "  family  prayers,"  and  we  sang; 
Hymns  17  and  14  from  "  Songs  of  Grace  and  Glory." 

Monday,  June  16,  we  planned  a  grand  expedition,  the 
"  Jardin,"  a  wonderful  glacier  excursion  which  has  long 
been  an  ambition  of  mine.  It  was  fine  after  a  wet  even- 
ing, so  Mr.  S.  and  I  started  a  little  before  six,  and 
walked  to  Montanvert,  overlooking  the  Mer  de  Glace 
(six  thousand  feet),  reaching  it  soon  after  eight.  We 
asked  for  a  guide  at  once  to  take  us  up  to  the  "  Jardin," 
and  were  told  by  the  innkeeper  that  we  ought  to  have 
started  not  later  than  three  A.M.,  and  that  the  snow  was 


206  SWISS  LETTERS. 

far  too  soft  to  do  it  so  late  as  eight,  that  nobody  has 
been  yet  this  year,  and  what  with  avalanches  and  slips 
and  vagaries  of  ice  and  snow  and  crevasses  and  "  eboule- 
ments,"  he  couldn't  say  whether  any  of  his  gargons 
could  find  the  way  at  all,  and  finally  declined  to  sanc- 
tion our  going.  This  was  sure  to  be  right,  because  dis- 
interested !  for  he  sacrificed  his  own  profits  upon  guide, 
provisions,  and  wine  ;  and  as  a  first-rate  guide  soon  after 
endorsed  the  decision,  we  had  no  choice  but  to  give  it 
up.  The  chef  des  guides  has  since  told  us  that  he  does 
not  think  the  "Jardin"  should  be  attempted  till  at  least 
the  end  of  next  week.  So  we  contented  ourselves  with 
a  climb  up  the  height  on  the  right  of  Montanvert,  and 
then  down  and  across  the  Mer  de  Glace. 

We  were  obliged  to  have  a  guide  across  the  ice,  and 
he  says  that  at  this  time  of  year  the  route  alters  al- 
most every  day,  crevasses  safe  to-day  may  be  dangerous 
to-morrow  ;  and  he  is  responsible  for  inspecting  the 
route  every  morning  before  any  visitors  cross,  setting 
up  little  stone  waymarks  which  the  other  guides  under- 
stand. 

The  big  "  Moulin,"  which  Mr.  C.  and  M.  will  remem- 
ber (a  great  hole  in  the  glacier,  down  which  you  hear  a 
tremendous  roar  of  sub-glacial  water  hundreds  of  feet 
below),  is  all  vanished  since  1869.  We  said  good-bye 
to  our  guide,  and  trotted  down  the  Mauvais  Pas  on  the 
other  side,  striking  off  into  a  little  path  to  get  down  to 
the  Sources  de  1'Arveiron,  where  the  river  rushes  out  of 
the  foot  of  the  glacier  ;  and  then  down  into  the  road 
and  back  to  Chamouni  by  about  two  o'clock. 

Tuesday,  June  17,  a  very  doubtful  morning,  and  not 
clear  enough  for  the  Col  de  Balm  ;  so  we  started  at  six 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  207 

for  the  Col  de  Vosa.  It  was  damp  and  muggy ;  so, 
after  walking  nearly  seven  miles,  I  gave  in  and  came 
straight  back,  while  Mr.  S.  went  on  up  the  col  alone. 
Just  after  I  turned  back  it. began  a  real  mountain  pour, 
so  six  miles  walking  in  this  was  a  tolerable  soak  ;  but 
nothing  to  Mr.  S.'s  state,  who  persevered  through  an 
amusing  series  of  difficulties  up  to  the  top,  and  got  back 
nearly  two  hours  later. 

This  morning  again  (Wednesday)  it  is  pouring,  and 
seems  likely  to  keep  on  at  it.  We  have  had  more  or 
less  rain  every  day  for  a  week  now  ;  no  signs  of  fine 
weather  yet. 

I  have  written  to  see  if  Mr.  S.  can  extend  his  tourist 
tickets  beyond  the  month  ;  if  not,  we  get  back  to  Bir- 
mingham on  the  evening  of  June  27,  and  I  go  on  to 
Oakhampton  next  day. 

I  have  not  had  much  conversation  with  the  natives, 
but  have  had  plenty  of  opportunity  of  giving  tracts 
and  portions.  Our  driver  to  Grindelwald  had  a  St. 
Luke  ;  next  evening  he  took  it  out  of  his  breast  pocket 
to  show  me  that  he  had  it,  saying  it  was  a  treasure  and 
he  would  never  part  with  it.  The  evening  before  he 
had  got  it  out  at  supper,  and  read  it  to  the  roomful  of 
guides  and  drivers.  Most  of  them  approved,  and  two 
or  three  wanted  to  buy  it  from  him,  but  he  said 
he  would  not  give  it  up  for  anything.  Then  he  read 
some  more  aloud,  whereupon  a  godless  guide  began 
scoffing  and  blaspheming  ;  not  ten  minutes  after,  he 
cut  his  hand,  or  rather  wrist,  so  fearfully  that  he  was 
quite  ill,  and  the  driver  said  they  thought  he  would  be 
laid  up  for  a  fortnight,  the  loss  of  blood  being  so  great 
as  to  be  dangerous  ;  I  suppose  it  was  an  artery.  The 


208  SWISS  LET  TEX  S. 

others  were  quite  impressed,  and  said  it  was  a  judgment 
of  God  upon  him.  This  old  driver  seemed  to  have 
the  fear  of  God,  and  listened  earnestly  and  responded 
warmly  to  all  I  tried  to  tell  him. 


No.  V. 

HOTEL  ROYAL,  CHAMOUNI.     June  19. 

e  are  not  well  off  as  to  weather  ;  Tuesday  and  Wed- 
nesday entirely  lost,  a  continued  pour.  We  reckoned 
on  a  probable  fine  morning  after  it,  and  early  it  was 
lovely;  but  we  did  not  arrange  to  start  till  10.30,  and 
we  had  a  hot  and  unprofitable  tug  up  to  the  Montan- 
vert,  and  a  dull,  cloudy  day,  not  the  top  of  a  single 
aiguille  visible.  The  only  fun  was  taking  E.  up  ;  she  is 
the  strongest  child  I  ever  knew,  and  enjoys  the  whole 
thing  deliciously. 

At  the  little  inn  they  brought  us  first  a  tureen  of 
bright  yellow  soup,  tasting  like  bad  sour  milk  and  oil, 
which  even  I  could  not  touch  !  They  call  the  com- 
pound "  egg  soup,"  and  professed  great  astonishment  at 
our  not  liking  it.  Then  they  produced  a  tureen  of 
dish-water  with  a  mild  flavouring  of  broth,  in  which 
floated  irregular  slices  and  lumps  of  stale  bread,  with 
a  few  blacks  and  a  good  deal  of  smoke  to  improve  the 
mess.  So  for  once  I  really  appreciated  table  d'hote  on 
our  return,  which  is  generally  an  unmitigated  bore.  Mr. 
Bickerdike  always  says  grace  from  the  head  of  the 
table,  and  the  little  gathering  every  night  for  "  family 
prayers  "  is  very  nice. 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  209 

Last  evening  looked  very  doubtful  and  heavily  cloud- 
ed ;  had  any  one  guessed  it  would  have  turned  out  a 
glorious  morning,  we  might  have  arranged  for  Col  de 
Balm  early,  and  might  have  been  off  at  five  or  so.  It  is 
now  (10.30)  though  still  fine,  quite  clouded  on  the  Bre- 
ven  and  Col  de  Balm  ;  how  curious  it  is  that  only  the 
early  mornings,  from  four  to  nine,  are  ever  really  clear 
(with  rare  exceptions).  This  afternoon  Mr.  S.  and  I 
are  going  to  make  our  last  attempt  at  a  good  excursion  ; 
and  having  been  disappointed  of  both  the  others  (Schilt- 
horn  and  Jardin),  I  do  very  much  hope  weather  will 
keep  up  for  this,  the  only  remaining  feather  for  our 
caps,  Les  Grands  Mulcts. 


No.  VI. 

.     HOTEL  ROYAL,  CHAMOUNI. 
Monday,  June  23. 

Hurrah  !  we  have  done  it,  and  could  not  possibly 
have  had  a  more  successful  or  a  more  amusing  ex- 
cursion, "  la  premiere  ascension  "  of  the  year,  and  con- 
sequently all  Chamouni  excited  about  it.  We  had  in- 
quired at  the  Bureau  des  Guides,  and  found  that  the 
regulation  was  two  guides  and  a  porter  at  an  exorbitant 
tariff,  being  a  "  course  extraordinaire."  It  did  seem 
waste  to  spend  six  or  seven  pounds  on  one  excursion,  so 
we  said  it  was  out  of  the  question.  However,  two 
strong  young  fellows  not  yet  admitted  as  "guides,"  but 
only  as  "  porteurs,"  who  had  formed  part  of  Mrs.  Snepp's 
carriers  to  Montanvert,  talked  to  us  about  it.  They  had 
14 


210  SWISS  LETTERS. 

their  testimonial  books  to  show,  one  had  been  seven- 
teen times  up  Mont  Blanc,  and  all  seemed  satisfactory. 
They  undertook  to  take  us  up  themselves  without  any 
further  fuss,  and  so  Mr.  S.  agreed  to  entrust  them  with 
our  bones.  Their  eagerness  and  delight  were  comical ; 
there  is  a  certain  eclat  about  "  la  premiere  ascension," 
and  they  would  go  on  any  terms,  so  that  they  might 
have  the  glory  of  it,  and  take  the  shine  out  of  their  su- 
periors, the  sworn  "guides."  We  saw  that  we  could 
not  be  in  better  hands,  as  all  their  interest  lay  in  mak- 
ing it  a  first-rate  success.  Our  boots  had  to  be  fresh 
nailed,  and  a  bigger  spike  put  in  my  stick,  and  various 
arrangements  made,  all  which  they  looked  after. 

On  Friday,  at  2.30  P.M.,  we  set  off,  accompanied  for 
the  first  stage  by  Mrs.  S.  and  E.  and  the  Bickerdikes, 
our  fellows  strutting  in  triumph  with  their  great  ice-axes, 
called  piolets,  and  a  great  coil  of  rope,  and  our  small 
effects. 

The  first  part  was  very  hot,  but  we  took  it  slowly  ; 
then  came  forest  and  ferns  ;  then  the  path  got  worse, 
with  tiny  torrents  crossing  it,  till,  by  5.30,  we  reached 
the  first  snow  patches,  alternating  with  flowers,  and 
about  six  we  reached  Pierre  Pointue,  where  we  were  to 
sleep.  I  had  a  little  wooden  room,  with  single  boards 
between  my  head  and  the  back  den  where  the  guides 
snored.  Mr.  S.  had  the  salon  converted  into  a  tidy  bed- 
room by  the  importation  of  trestles  and  boards  as  soon 
as  our  supper  was  cleared  away.  As  there  was  no  fire, 
we  went  into  the  little  kitchen  and  warmed  our  feet  in 
the  oven,  where  also  our  boots  were  baked  previous  to 
being  greased  for  the  ascent. 

As  soon  as  our  guides  had  eaten,  they  dashed  off  to 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  211 

collect  wood  and  dried  rhododendrons  for  a  bonfire,  for 
of  course  Chamouni  must  be  apprised  of  our  arrival,  and 
as  it  got  dark  the  flame  blazed  up  well  on  a  jutting  rock 
in  full  view  of  the  hotels  below.  Meanwhile  we  had  a 
grand  sunset,  several  sunset  pictures  in  one,  all  thrown 
up  by  the  dark  depth  of  the  valley  below.  On  the  right 
the  Aiguille  Verte  and  Aiguille  du  Dru  formed  an  ex- 
quisite calm  picture  apart,  both  a  delicate  rose-colour, 
partly  veiled  by  floating  mist  of  semi-transparent  silver. 
Opposite,  intense  purple  and  very  stormy-looking  clouds 
massed  densely  all  along  the  tops  of  the  Breven  range  ; 
but  their  other  side  must  have  been  gorgeous,  for  a  weird 
light  was  reflected  down  from  underneath  it  upon  the 
upper  slopes  of  rock  and  snow  as  from  a  great  hidden 
fire,  quite  different  from  the  direct  sunlight.  Then  over 
the  Pic  de  Varens  were  great  rifts  of  gold,  quivering 
with  intensity  and  showing  distant  peaks  of  softer  bril- 
liance, changing  every  minute,  as  if  series  of  golden 
gates  were  being  unrolled,  revealing  gates  of  opal  and 
pearl  beyond  them.  Then  to  the  left  and  behind  the 
Dome  and  Aiguille  du  Goute*,  lit  up  with  amber  and 
scarlet,  the  Mont  Maudit  shone  out  as  a  cloud-tipped 
expanse  of  glowing  snow  ;  while  the  true  summit  of 
Mont  Blanc  just  glimpsed  through  cloud,  so  rich  in  rose- 
fire  and  so  beautiful  that  it  was  hardly  tantalizing  that 
the  moment  of  full  revelation  never  came,  and  all  died 
away  into  white  and  grey  as  our  bonfire  blazed  up  just 
below  us. 

Of  course  I  went  to  bed  at  once,  and  soon  to  sleep, 
spite  of  the  snoring  through  the  boards.  In  the  middle 
of  the  night  I  heard  a  continued  scratching,  suggestive  of 
rats,  only  it  must  be  a  snow  species,  as  ours  would  not 


212  5  WISS  LE  T  TERS. 

find  the  climate  agreeable  ;  after  a  while  I  found  it  pro- 
ceeded from  the  salon,  where  Mr.  S.  was  vainly  scraping 
damp  matches  on  the  boards  that  he  might  see  the  time. 
Presently  the  host  roused  up  and  gave  a  light ;  it  was 
1. 10  A.M.,  so  we  had  yet  fifty  minutes  to  sleep.  The 
men  did  not  seem  to  mind  being  routed  up,  it  was  part 
of  their  business,  and  they  subsided  again  quite  good- 
temperedly,  and  in  three  minutes  the  snoring  recom- 
menced. They  made  it  up  by  overshooting  two  o'clock, 
when  they  should  have  called  us,  so  Mr.  S.  himself  gave 
the  reVeille  at  2.10.  I  rushed  anxiously  to  my  window, 
and  rubbed  the  frosty  pane  to  look  out,  for  it  had  been 
hard  to  distinguish  between  wind  and  torrents;  to  my 
exceeding  delight  it  was  the  latter  only,  and  the  morn- 
ing was  perfect,  the  stars  sparkling  like  winter,  Mont 
Blanc  cloudless,  and  just  gleaming  with  that  strange 
pale  light  preceding  the  dawn. 

By  a  little  after  three  we  were  off.  The  Cranes  will 
remember  the  scramble  to  Pierre  a  1'Echelle  well,  a  nar- 
row path  skirting  a  precipice  ;  it  is  now  all  snow,  up 
which  we  worked  step  by  step,  each  foot  planted  with  a 
firm  poke  to  ensure  the  footing,  and  also  improve  the 
track  for  after  comers.  They  will  recollect  the  snow 
slopes  down  which  Aristide  Couttet  glissaded  ;  it  was 
up  these  we  climbed.  At  Pierre  a  1'Echelle  we  roped, 
the  guides  and  Mr.  S.  having  leather  belts  with  a  metal 
ring  like  harness,  too  heavy  for  me  ;  I  was  simply  noosed 
round  the  waist  with  a  firm  knot.  They  insisted  on  a 
certain  order  :  De'sailloud  first,  then  myself,  then  Payot, 
and  Mr.  S.  last,  saying  this  was  the  safest  arrangement. 
About  eight  or  ten  feet  of  rope  are  allowed  between  each 
person  ;  they  showed  us  it  was  a  real  Alpine  Club  rope, 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  213 

known  by  a  red  thread  in  the  middle  of  the  three  strands, 
and  gave  us  distinct  instructions  what  to  do  in  case  of 
one  slipping,  or  snow  giving  way,  and  dangling  in  a 
crevasse.  The  sun  had  struck  the  summits  with  very 
beautiful  colouring,  something  between  amber  and 
crimson  ;  and  Mr.  S.  called  a  halt  and  would  have  the 
Morning  Hymn  !  It  was  very  bad  economy  of  wind,  I 
sang  two  verses  and  then  "struck."  Sticking  half  way 
up  a  snow  slope,  holding  on  by  a  projecting  crag  at  four 
A.M.,  is  not  the  most  favourable  position  for  hymn- sing- 
ing, however  inspiring  the  sunrise  may  be.  We  worked 
up  and  across  the  great  Glacier  des  Bossons,  incom- 
parably grander  than  the  Mer  de  Glace  ;  and  if  you 
want  a  good  idea  of  it,  study  any  of  those  snow  stereo- 
scopes, with  people  crossing  crevasses  and  threading 
among  blocks  and  pinnacles  of  ice  and  looking  down 
into  gulfs  ;  they  give  an  excellent  idea  of  it.  I  could 
have  fancied  I  had  got  into  a  stereoscope  box  in  a 
dream. 

The  snow  was  in  excellent  condition,  i.e.  we  did  not 
often  go  in  above  our  knees !  and  every  now  and  then 
only  went  ankle-deep  for  a  treat,  and  in  a  few  very 
sheltered  parts  we  could  trot  over  the  crust  without 
breaking  it. 

Every  few  minutes  Desailloud  shouted  "  Attention  !  " 
"  Faites  tendre  la  corde  !  "  (stretch  the  rope)  and  that 
signified  a  crevasse.  Then  we  went  very  slowly,  stretch- 
ing the  rope  tight  between  us  (which  reduces  the  shock 
if  anybody  goes  in),  while  Desailloud  sounded  the  snow 
step  by  step,  sometimes  cutting  away  an  unsafe  bit,  as 
it  is  safer  to  step  or  spring  across  an  open  fissure  than 
a  hidden  one.  There  is  so  much  snow  now  that  most 


214  SWISS  LETTERS. 

of  the  crevasses  are  well  snowed  over,  and  we  needed 
no  ladders,  which  are  necessary  in  August.  We  had  to 
pass  close  under  the  Aiguille  du  Midi,  where  the  torn 
snow  showed  we  were  on  the  track  of  avalanches  ;  and 
here  Desailloud  hurried  us  on,  saying  the  sooner  we  got 
over  that  ten  minutes  the  better,  as  there  was  no  fore- 
seeing an  avalanche.  All  this  time  we  had  the  advan- 
tage of  being  in  the  shadow  of  the  immense  heights, 
with  sharp,  frosty  air  and  crackling  snow.  About  7.15 
we  came  out  upon  the  steep  snow  slopes  on  the  other 
side  of  the  two  glaciers  we  had  crossed,  and  were  not 
only  in  full  view  of  the  sun,  but  of  Chamouni.  In  three 
minutes  the  guides  caught  the  sound  of  cannon,  and 
listening  we  heard  two  more  rounds.  "  On  nous  voit !  " 
they  shouted  in  a  state  of  ecstasy.  "  Everybody  in 
Chamouni  can  see  us  with  the  big  telescopes  !  "  They 
were  so  charmed,  and  I  think  we  found  it  rather  stimu- 
lating also,  to  know  that  we  were  being  watched  from 
below.  Desailloud  gave  himself  the  trouble  of  hoisting 
a  great  shawl  on  his  piolet  as  a  flag,  and  carrying  it  up 
three  steep  slopes  in  triumph.  And  they  were  verg. 
steep,  though  not  at  all  dangerous,  as  we  got  footing 
nearly  knee-deep  for  every  step. 

A  little  before  eight  we  reached  the  Grands  Mulcts, 
black  desolate  peaked  rocks  in  the  midst  of  an  ocean  of 
snow,  and  our  arrival  was  signalled  instantly  by  four 
more  cannonades  in  Chamouni.  There  is  a  wooden 
cabin  perched  on  a  shelf  of  the  rock  ;  the  guides  knew 
where  to  find  the  key,  and  set  out  luncheon  for  us  quite 
tidily,  while  we  sat  cross-legged  on  the  two  little  beds 
to  warm  our  feet.  Payot  acted  lady's  maid  and  took  off 
my  boots  and  stockings  (I  could  not  possibly  get  them 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  215 

off  myself),  and  kindly  lent  me  a  pair  of  his  own  enor- 
mous worsted  socks,  warm  and  dry,  which  soon  warmed 
me  up  beautifully,  and  then  I  sat  upon  my  feet  and 
handed  the  socks  to  Mr.  S.,  who  was  very  cold  indeed, 
so  that  I  was  almost  frightened  for  him  till  a  little  food 
and  cognac  warmed  him  up  too.  I  did  not  feel  the 
least  tired  all  the  way,  and  could  have  gone  on  much 
higher  with  ease  ;  but  as  soon  as  I  had  eaten  I  went  fast 
asleep  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  which  seemed  rather 
grievous  to  do  in  such  a  scene,  but  1  could  not  help  it, 
and  woke  up  as  fresh  as  possible  for  the  descent.  In  the 
meantime  our  guides  had  set  off  on  their  own  account, 
scrambling  and  tearing  about  just  like  boys  out  of 
school,  yelling  madly,  coming  down  again  right  over  the 
roof  of  the  cabin,  which  was  all  snow  like  the  rest.  The 
powerful  sun  during  our  halt  had  so  softened  the  snow 
that  our  descent  was  a  simple  series  of  slides  and  plunges  ; 
after  a  few  hundred  feet  we  got  quite  used  to  the 
motion.  Real  glissades  were  not  safe  to  attempt,  with 
the  glacier  below.  We  had  some  lovely  effects,  such  as 
I  have  never  before  seen,  in  passing  the  colossal  ice 
blocks  on  the  shady  side  ;  the  sun  behind  them  touch- 
ing the  transparent  edges  with  a  sort  of  aureole,  and 
shining  through  a  glittering  drip  from  the  overhanging 
ones.  We  wanted  to  stop  and  admire,  but  the  guides 
said  it  was  "  not  good  "  to  stand  there  ;  the  giants  have 
an  objectionable  trick  of  tumbling  over  now  and  then,  and 
it  is  as  well  to  keep  out  of  the  way.  The  snow  bridges 
required  a  little  more  caution  than  in  the  morning,  but 
we  passed  them  all  quite  safely. 

At  our  first  halt  on  the  glacier  about  five  A.M.,  Mr.  S. 
dropped  his  spectacles  (fortunately  not  the  dark  ones), 


2i6  SWISS  LETTERS. 

and  the  slope  being  steep  and  the  snow  hard  they  went 
glissading  down  two  or  three  hundred  feet  till  they  van- 
ished in  a  hole,  all  in  a  few  seconds.  We  could  not 
have  found  the  place  again,  but  on  our  return  the  guides 
pulled  up  on  the  lower  edge  of  a  great  hole  about  six 
feet  wide,  overhung  by  snow  and  rock,  and  announced 
that  the  spectacles  were  there,  and  they  would  fetch 
them  up !  They  had  made  a  different  return  track  on 
purpose.  Mr.  S.  entreated  them  to  let  it  alone,  but  they 
declared  there  was  no  danger,  and  they  would  evidently 
have  been  desperately  disappointed  of  their  fun  if  he 
had  insisted. 

They  untied  me  to  give  more  rope,  and  then  De?ailloud 
lowered  himself  (Payot,  Mr.  S.,  and  I  holding  the  rope), 
and  we  roaring  at  him  not  to  go,  he  only  laughing  in  re- 
turn out  of  the  depths,  and  shouting  that  he  could  see 
the  spectacles  and  meant  to  have  them  !  There  was 
luckily  just  rope  enough  for  him  to  reach  them,  and  up 
he  came,  like  a  monkey,  with  the  spectacles  safe  between 
his  teeth,  all  over  snow. 

They  would  not  untie  us  when  we  got  to  Pierre 
a  1'Echelle,  because  the  snow  slopes  are  so  steep  (though 
no  more  crevasses),  which  seemed  to  me  the  very  reason 
why  we  should  not  pull  each  other  down,  as  we  soon 
proved,  especially  as  I  don't  like  glissading  when  roped, 
and  one  attempt  thereat  resulted  in  our  all  rolling  over 
each  other.  Presently  I  thought  we  were  come  to  a 
sufficiently  easy  part  to  go  carelessly,  whereupon  I 
slipped,  and  Payot,  who  was  next  me,  totally  lost 
himself  too,  and  we  had  just  started  a  decidedly  too 
rapid  spin  down  a  very  steep  incline,  when  instantane- 
ously Mr.  S.  did  the  only  possible  thing  which  could  have 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  217 

stopped  all  four  of  us  ;  flung  himself  right  on  his  back 
with  his  heels  in  the  snow,  the  orthodox  thing  to  do  if 
only  any  one  has  the  presence  of  mind  to  do  it.  This 
checked  the  impetus,  and  we  quickly  recovered  our 
footing. 

After  this  we  were  unroped,  which  I  greatly  preferred, 
as  the  roping  is  very  hampering  to  individual  action  on 
the  snow  slopes,  though  splendidly  safe  for  the  glaciers. 
Being  free  I  managed  some  nice  long  glissades  by  my- 
self. Payot  and  Mr.  S.  did  a  magnificent  glissade  to- 
gether, going  down  like  a  shot  in  less  than  two  minutes 
a  descent  which  would  have  taken  perhaps  twenty  min- 
utes to  get  down  any  other  way.  I  need  not  say  that 
after  these  exploits  there  was  not  a  dry  inch  on  our 
clothes !  I  was  not  at  all  tired  on  reaching  Pierre 
Pointue,  so  after  settling  the  bill  we  raced  down  to  Cha- 
mouni  in  considerably  less  than  regulation  time,  owing 
to  scampers  and  short  cuts,  as  we  were  anxious  to  give 
Mrs.  S.  a  pleasant  surprise  by  being  back  much  sooner 
than  expected.  It  was  very  bright  and  hot,  and  we 
could  never  have  done  half  the  walking  in  the  valley 
that  we  did  on  the  mountains.  We  found  we  were  not 
expected  till  five  or  six  o'clock,  so  as  we  marched  in 
before  three  the  final  salute  was  not  ready,  but  our 
arrival  was  soon  known,  and  the  little  cannon  were  blaz- 
ing away  again  !  About  half  a  mile  from  Chamouni  our 
guides  passed  their  home  and  stopped  for  a  minute  ; 
they  might  as  well  have  left  the  heavy  rope  and  ice-axes 
as  carry  them  to  Chamouni  and  back  again  in  the  heat, 
but  oh  dear  no,  they  could  not  possibly  enter  Chamouni 
without  them,  heat  and  weight  being  no  consideration 
compared  with  getting  the  outward  and  visible  credit 


2i8  SWISS  LETTERS. 

of  "la  premiere  ascension  de  1873"!  So  they  shoul- 
dered it  all  again,  and  marched  in  in  style. 

Our  reception  was  most  amusing  ;  even  the  waiters, 
who  are  an  unusually  glum  set,  were  beaming,  and  Mr.  S. 
was  rushed  at  by  the  master  of  the  hotel  and  the  secre- 
tary of  the  Journal  de  Geneve,  all  as  frantic  as  if  we  had 
returned  from  the  moon  itself.  Refusals  availed  nought, 
and  they  positively  insisted  on  treating  us  to  champagne, 
which  was  taken  with  the  usual  foreign  glass-clinking 
and  ecstatic  congratulations.  Then  came  an  humble 
request,  would  we  write  just  a  little  article  for  the  Jour- 
nal de  Geneve,  to  appear  on  Tuesday  ?  it  would  be  such 
a  favour,  such  a  benefit  (i.e.  to  the  Hotel  Royal),  and  so 
forth  ;  and  if  we  preferred  writing  in  English,  monsieur 
le  secretaire  would  speedily  put  it  into  French.  So 
when  I  let  them  know  I  was  not  new  at  that  trade,  and 
graciously  acceded,  they  congratulated  themselves  with 
fresh  enthusiasm  !  I  don't  know  when  I  ever  laughed 
more,  the  whole  concern  was  so  funny  and  utterly  novel. 
I  had  not  a  notion  the  ascent  to  the  Grands  Mulcts  was 
made  such  a  fuss  about,  but  the  eclat  was  owing  to  its 
being  the  first  ascent  of  the  season,  which  had  never 
before  happened  to  be  done  by  a  lady. 

But  now  for  Mrs.  S.,  who  decidedly  won  her  spurs 
while  we  won  ours.  To  Mr.  S.'s  consternation  she  was 
out  with  E.  and  A.  and  the  Bickerdikes,  and  no  one 
gave  the  same  version  of  her  departure,  the  received 
one  being  that  she  had  gone  on  a  mule  to  meet  us  after 
being  informed  by  the  telescope  that  our  descent  had 
commenced.  So  we  sent  after  her,  and  at  last  when  we 
were  becoming  really  anxious  the  party  drove  into  Cha- 
mouni  at  6.30. 


LETTERS  IN  1873. 


She  was  much  disappointed  and  vexed  at  not  being 
in  time  to  receive  Mr.  S.  She  thought  the  expedition 
to  La  Fle"gere  the  B.'s  asked  her  to  take  would  only  be 
for  two  hours.  Up  they  toiled  in  the  heat,  mile  after 
mile  of  those  horrid  zigzags  ;  then  the  saddle  slipped  a 
little  on  one  side,  and  'the  muleteer  gave  Mrs.  S.  such  a 
counteracting  push  as  nearly  sent  her  over  on  the  other, 
whereupon  she  dismounted  and  actually  climbed  all  the 
rest  of  the  way  on  foot.  Then  little  E.  would  not  ride, 
and  they  chartered  a  big  boy  who  carried  her  two  miles 
on  his  back  !  At  last  they  reached  the  top,  6,500  feet  ! 
The  report  of  our  "  ascension  "  had  reached  La  Flegere, 
and  the  hostess  was  ready  to  embrace  Mrs.  S.  on  find- 
ing that  she  was  wife  of  one  of  the  "  voyageurs,"  the 
whole  neighbourhood  seems  to  have  been  on  the  look  out 
in  a  state  of  excitement.  Presently  up  dashes  E.'s  boy  : 
"  Les  voyageurs  sont  arrives  &  Chamouni  !  "  dancing 
and  capering  as  if  he  would  like  to  fly  down  to  meet 
"les  voyageurs."  Pleasing  intelligence  for  poor  Mrs.  S. 
on  the  top  of  La  Flegere  !  So  down  she  started  full 
speed  the  four  or  five  miles  on  foot,  as  it  is  so  steep  for 
riding  down,  and  sent  the  aforesaid  boy  on  to  get  a  car- 
riage to  meet  them  at  the  bottom.  So  all  ended  well, 
and  we  had  a  lively  table  d'h6te  at  seven  o'clock,  as  you 
may  suppose,  except  that  I  was  cross  at  having  allowed 
myself  to  be  beguiled  into  writing  for  the  Geneva  paper 
instead  of  taking  a  siesta  as  I  intended. 

They  tell  me  I  am  fully  equal  to  doing  Mont  Blanc 
easily.  But  now  for  a  piece  of  wisdom  :  I  really  think 
it  would  not  be  worth  while  to  do  it,  considering  the 
great  expense  and  the  danger  of  being  overtaken  by  bad 
weather,  however  delightful  if  continuously  fine.  We 


SWISS  LETTERS. 


have  had  all  the  most  interesting  sights  and  doings  of 
the  ascent,  and  the  only  gain  would  be  the  being  able  to 
say  we  had  done  it. 

Though  not  the  faintest  quiver  of  nervousness  once 
crossed  me  to  spoil  the  enjoyment,  yet  it  certainly  does 
not  come  within  the  promise  I  made  in  1871  to  attempt 
"nothing  dangerous,"  for  there  is  a  certain  amount  of 
danger  both  from  crevasses  and  avalanches  which  no 
surefootedness  or  precaution  could  entirely  neutralise. 
Neither  Mr.  S.  nor  I  thought  of  danger  till  we  were 
actually  up  there,  so  I  went  with  a  clear  conscience, 
which  would  not  be  if  I  were  to  go  a  second  time,  and  I 
could  not  have  the  entire  absence  of  fear  and  absolute 
trust  in  God's  keeping  which  I  had  this  time.  Even  as 
a  matter  of  muscle  and  agility  I  would  not  recommend 
it  to  any  but  gentlemen,  and  by  no  means  to  all  of 
those  ;  it  wants  a  light,  quick  walker,  good  lungs,  steady 
head  and^sure  foot,  and  light  weight  and  step  for  cross- 
ing the  crevasses.  The  two  days'  splendid  weather 
seemed  just  on  purpose  for  us  ;  it  has  changed  again  and 
been  stormy  all  day. 

Sunday  was  very  pleasant,  the  number  of  English 
nearly  double  that  of  last  Sunday.  Mr.  S.  read  prayers 
morning  and  afternoon.  I  played  both  times,  and  we 
had  nice  hymns  and  chants.  At  table  d'hote  we  met  a 
Mr.  Burns  and  his  family,  who  knew  dear  papa  at 
Dunoon. 

Our  return  is  uncertain  ;  probably  we  shall  stay  a 
Sunday  at  Boulogne,  and  perhaps  get  two  or  three  days' 
sea  bathing  as  a  break  in  the  long  journey,  and  a  let 
down  out  of  the  mountain  air.  I  cannot  give  any  certain 
address  at  all ! 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  221 

No.    VII. 

CHAMONIX.  (How  I  hate  spelling  it  French 
fashion  !  I  never  can  reconcile  my  mind 
to  considering  it  France.)  June  25. 

Weather  continues  to  be  "variable,"  so  Monday  we 
could  do  nothing,  violent  storms  all  day  ;  once  we  saw 
a  cloud  come  down  into  the  valley  two  or  three  miles 
off,  and  then  literally  roll  along  the  very  ground  as  if  it 
would  swallow  us  up ;  and  when  it  did  reach  the  vil- 
lage, the  pour  beat  any  mountain  storm  I  ever  saw. 

Tuesday  we  speculated  would  be  fine,  so  Mr.  S.  and 
I  started  at  4.15  for  the  Col  de  Balm.  We  had  a  lovely 
walk  along  the  valley  to  Argentiere  (six  miles).  We 
went  on  two  miles  more  to  La  Tour,  the  highest  village 
of  the  valley,  nearly  five  thousand  feet  above  sea 
level ;  and  here  I  decided  to  stay,  while  Mr.  S.  went  on 
to  the  top,  four  miles  farther.  A  s  usual  the  lovely  morn- 
ing failed,  and  clouds  came  down  ;  and  poor  Mr.  S.  got 
no  view  at  all,  and  had  his  tough  climb  all  for  nothing, 
up  a  path  not  yet  "  arrange  pour  la  saison,"  which 
means  any  amount  of  landslips  and  mud  and  snow  and 
torrents  and  boulders  to  be  walked  over. 

We  got  back  to  Chamouni  at  1.30  ;  the  excursion  is 
reckoned  as  nine  hours'  walking,  five  up  and  four  down. 
So  Mr.  S.  walked  twenty-four  miles  and  I  only  about 
sixteen ! 

I  never  saw  such  an  awful  place  for  swindle  without 
redress !  All  the  hotels  belong  to  a  "  Societe  Anonyme," 
so  theie  is  no  competition  and  no  maitre  (T hotel,  whose 
personal  interest  it  is  to  protect  and  please  his  guests.  I 
have  actually  made  them  reduce  our  bill  by  nearly  eighty 


SWISS  LETTERS. 


francs  ;  all  such  clear  overcharges  that  they  could  not 
maintain  them.  One  item  beat  anything  I  ever  heard 
of,  "  a  pencil,  fifty  centimes  !  "  (i.e.  half  a  franc)  which 
turned  out  to  be  that  a  waiter  had  lent  Mr.  S.  a  pencil 
for  half  a  minute  to  write  a  message  with,  the  pencil  not 
having  been  even  asked  for  and  returned  on  the  spot ! 
The  only  thing  they  don't  swindle  in  is  the  guides  and 
mules,  which  are  all  tariff,  and  though  high  are  not 
utterly  unreasonable,  and  are  always  exact. 

Ann  gives  a  sad  report  of  the  servants'  table.  I  am 
glad  she  is  a  Young  Women's  Christian  Association 
member,  and  she  seems  to  have  been  brave  and  true  to 
her  colours.  Of  all  the  valets  and  ladies'  maids  she  was 
the  only  one  in  Chamouni  (for  all  the  hotels  dine  to- 
gether at  present)  who  went  to  church,  except  one  ap- 
parently well-disposed  man,  who  sided  with  her  and 
spoke  up  for  religion. 

HOTEL  DU  PA  VILLON.     Saturday  Evening. 

I  thought  I  should  not  have  much  to  tell  you,  but  we 
have  had  quite  an  adventure  of  a  sort  new  to  me  !  I 
wrote  so  far,  early  A.M.  on  Wednesday.  As  we  wished 
to  be  at  Geneva  by  Thursday  evening  we  ought  either 
to  have  gone  down  direct  on  Thursday  morning,  or 
started  not  later  than  nine  A.M.  on  Wednesday  to  go  by 
Tete  Noire,  which  is  nine  hours.  Although  a  little  car- 
riage road  is  open  all  the  way,  the  ups  and  downs,  etc., 
are  so  great  that  they  allow  just  the  same  time  as  for 
foot  or  mule  passengers. 

We  did  not  start  till  12.30,  and  soon  found  that  most 
of  the  way  the  carriage  had  to  go  even  slower  than  we 
could  walk  !  and  we  walked  a  good  deal.  I  am  not  given 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  223 

to  nervousness,  but  really  in  several  places  I  was  more 
easy  in  my  mind  out  of  the  carriage  than  in  ;  it  always 
seems  to  me  the  most  dangerous  mode  of  progression, 
where  a  narrow  road  has  only  a  slight  and  occasional 
fence  of  two  fir,  poles,  and  there  are  torrents  and  real 
precipices  below,  especially  in  early  summer  when 
the  edges  often  give  way  from  the  rains.  Though  not  a 
bright  day,  it  was  tolerable  till  about  half-past  six  in  the 
evening,  by  which  time  we  ought  to  have  been  safely 
housed  at  Vernayaz,  instead  of  beginning  the  ascent  of 
the  Forclaz  just  beyond  the  Tete  Noire  hotel,  which  we 
did  not  leave  till  six. 

For  information  of  Maria,  etc.,  I  will  just  explain  that 
the  Tete  Noire  is  a  magnificent  high  level  valley  or 
gorge,  winding  for  four  or  five  hours  at  a  good  height 
among  mountains,  as  picturesque  a  combination  of 
heights  and  depths,  rocks,  torrents,  cascades,  pine  trees, 
ferns,  flowers,  and  precipices  as  exists  anywhere.  The 
upper  end  consists  of  an  hour's  stiff  pull  up  to  the  Col 
de  Forclaz,  on  gaining  which  you  look  down  over  the 
other  side  into  the  Rhone  valley,  deep  below,  reached 
by  a  rough  zigzaging  road  of  about  seven  miles  down. 

So  we  began  the  descent  just  as  it  was  beginning  to 
get  dark !  It  reminded  me  of  Astathes  in  that  pretty 
little  allegory,  "  The  Spring  Morning,"  who  set  out  late 
on  his  journey,  and  came  in  for  storms  and  wild  beasts, 
where  Agape,  the  early  little  traveller,  passed  safely. 
After  about  ten  minutes,  in  coming  down  a  very  steep 
bit,  something  went  bang.  The  driver  got  out,  pot- 
tered in  the  wet,  and  then  "  Faut  descendre  !  "  was  his 
laconic  information.  So  "descendre  "  we  all  did,  in  all 
the  drench,  and  lo  !  the  drag  had  broken,  right  in  two. 


224  SWISS  LETTEKS. 

So  he  turned  us  all  out,  and  we  had  to  trudge  seven 
miles  down  in  the  deepening  dark ! 

Happily  the  rain  ceased  in  a  short  time,  or  rather  we 
came  down  out  of  the  cloud,  so  it  was  only  a  question  of 
tramp.  It  was  pretty  well  at  first,  but  as  it  got  to  nine 
and  ten  and  eleven  o'clock  it  was  no  trifle,  and  a  sprained 
ankle  would  have  been  no  marvel.  We  had  to  pick 
step  after  step  with  the  utmost  caution,  among  big 
stones  and  sudden  dips  and  occasional  streams,  when 
we  could  trace  anything ;  but  when  we  passed  under 
trees,  which  are  luxuriant  for  the  last  mile  or  two,  it  was 
absolutely  pitch  dark,  and  we  could  only  guide  by  each 
other's  voices,  or  the  jingle  of  the  horse  bells  before  us, 
or  the  rush  of  a  little  watercourse  beside  us.  At  last  we 
got  to  the  bottom,  and  were  allowed  to  get  into  the  car- 
riage. I  should  say  that  I  picked  up  two  or  three  glow- 
worms, which  were  a  material  assistance  in  guiding 
those  who  walked  behind  me !  By  that  time  the  wind 
had  risen,  and  resisted  all  attempts  to  get  a  light  while 
the  re-harnessing  took  place.  The  arrangement  is,  one 
strong  horse  that  goes  all  the  way,  and  a  mule  that  is 
tied  on  behind  for  descents,  and  brought  to  the  fore  for 
levels  and  ascents,  running  by  the  side  of  the  shafts 
with  two  or  three  ropes  and  straps,  which  broke  three 
or  four  times. 

After  we  had  our  mule  tied  on  we  had  to  go  nearly 
a  mile  at  slow  walking  pace,  "  the  police  forbid  any 
trotting  through  Martigny  !  "  through  wide  roads  and 
dead  level.  At  last  we  got  fairly  out  on  the  Vernayaz 
road,  anticipating  a  good  trot,  when  all  at  once  a  per- 
fect hurricane  came  tearing  down  the  lower  Rhone  val- 
ley to  meet  us,  right  in  our  teeth  ;  it  not  only  blew  the 


LETTERS  IN  1873.  225 

clouds  away,  but  bid  fair  to  blow  the  stars  out,  and  had 
it  come  broadside  I  believe  it  must  have  blown  the  ve- 
hicle over.  And  this  lasted  till  some  little  time  after 
midnight,  when  the  great  white  new  hotel  of  the  Gorge 
du  Trient  loomed  up  ghostly  and  lightless  under  the 
rocks. 

We  were  glad  enough  to  see  it,  and  soon  rang  the 
natives  up,  who  were  singularly  amiable  considering 
their  sleepiness,  stumbling  down  in  various  stages  of  cos- 
tume and  nightcap.  Mrs.  S.  was  very  tired  next  morn- 
ing, but  no  one  else  was  a  whit  the  worse,  and  Emily 
got  into  Geneva  the  next  night  as  lively  as  ever.  In  the 
morning  we  went  up  the  Gorge  du  Trient,  a  colossal 
fissure  from  six  hundred  to  one  thousand  feet  deep,  and 
often  not  six  feet  across,  the  only  access,  being  by  a 
wooden  gallery  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long,  hung  on  iron 
cramps  and  supports  above  the  roaring  torrent,  which 
fills  up  the  bottom  of  the  cleft,  with  no  shore  whatever, 
a  narrow,  deep  volume  of  mighty  waters. 

At  the  hotel  they  had  a  beautiful  young  St.  Bernard, 
with  her  two  splendid  little  puppies,  a  fortnight  old. 
Mr.  S.  wants  a  dog  badly  as  house-dog,  and  Emily 
wanted  a  puppy,  and  it  seemed  cruel  to  take  such  a  lit- 
tle one  away  from  the  mother  ;  so,  as  the  people  came 
to  terms,  he  bought  the  whole  family !  The  mother, 
Vinesse,  is  a  beauty,  with  a  grand  head  and  gentle, 
wistful  expression,  a  dog  that  would  die  for  you.  The 
little  fellows  are  sleek  rotundities-  with  big  paws,  sup- 
posed to  be  going  to  be  very  superb  specimens.  I  am 
delighted  with  them  of  course. 


[The  last  letter  of  this  series  is  missing.] 
15 


VIII. 
JULY   ON   THE   MOUNTAINS. 


sultry  gloom  on  the  mountain  brow, 

And  a  sultry  glow  beneath  ; 
Oh  for  a  breeze  from  the  western  sea, 
Soft  and  reviving,  sweet  and  free, 
Over  the  shado'wless  hill  and  lea, 

Over  the  barren  heath  ! 

There  are  clouds  and  darkness  around  God's  ways 
And  the  noon  of  life  grows  hot  ; 

And  though  His  faithfulness  standeth  fast 

As  the  mighty  mountains,  a  shroud  is  cast 

Over  its  glory,  solemn  and  vast, 

Veiling,  but  changing  it  not. 

Send  a  sweet  breeze  from  Thy  sea,  O  Lord, 

From  Thy  deep,  deep  sea  of  love  ; 
Though  it  lift  not  the  veil  from  the  cloudy  height, 
Let  the  brow  grow  cool  and  the  footsteps  light, 
As  it  comes  with  holy  and  soothing  might, 
Like  the  wing  of  a  snowy  dove. 

(226) 


IX. 


THREE   LETTERS, 

(FROM  A  SERIES  OF  TWELVE)  TO  MRS.  HAVERGAL  IN  1874, 

DURING  A  TOUR   CHIEFLY   WITH   CONSTANCE   S.   C. 


THE  INN  ON  THE  FAULHORN. 
6t&  July,  1874. 

"Su;.?et  on  the  Faulhorn !  "  All  day  there  had  been 
strange  rifts  in  the  clouds,  and  sudden  pictures  of  peaks 
or  of  abysses  framed  in  white  and  grey ;  but  towards 
seven  o'clock  the  wind  rose,  and  there  was  a  grand  out- 
pour of  colour  upon  everything,  sky,  clouds,  and  mount- 
ains. 

Imagine  yourself  midway  between  heaven  and  earth, 
the  sharp  point  of  rock  on  which  we  stood  hardly  seem- 
ing more  of  earth  than  if  we  had  been  in  a  balloon,  the 
whole  space  around,  above,  and  below  filled  with  wild, 
weird,  spectral  clouds,  driving  and  whirling  in  incessant 
change  and  with  tremendous  rapidity  ;  horizon  none,  but 
every  part  of  where  horizon  should  be,  crowded  with 
unimaginable  shapes  of  unimagined  colours,  with  rifts  of 
every  shade  of  blue,  from  indigo  to  pearl,  and  burning 
with  every  tint  of  fire,  from  gold  to  intensest  red  ;  shafts 

(227) 


228  SWISS  LETTERS. 

of  keen  light  shot  down  into  abysses  of  purple  thousands 
of  feet  below,  enormous  surging  masses  of  grey  hurled 
up  from  beneath,  and  changing  in  an  instant  to  glorified 
brightness  of  fire  as  they  seemed  on  the  point  of  swal- 
lowing up  the  shining  masses  above  them  ;  then,  all  in 
an  instant,  a  wild  grey  shroud  flung  over  us,  as  swiftly 
passing  and  leaving  us  in  a  blaze  of  sunshine  ;  then  a 
bursting  open  of  the  very  heavens,  and  a  vision  of  what 
might  be  celestial  heights,  pure  and  still  and  shining,  high 
above  it  all ;  then  an  instantaneous  cleft  in  another  wild 
cloud,  and  a  revelation  of  a  perfect  paradise  of  golden 
and  rosy  slopes  and  summits  ;  then,  quick  gleams  of 
white  peaks  through  veilings  and  unveilings  of  flying 
semi-transparent  clouds  ;  then,  as  quickly  as  the  eye 
could  follow,  a  rim  of  dazzling  light  running  round  the 
edges  of  a  black  castle  of  cloud,  and  flaming  windows 
suddenly  pierced  in  it  ;  oh,  mother  dear,  I  might  go  on 
for  sheets,  for  it  was  never  twice  the  same,  nor  any  single 
minute  the  same,  in  any  one  direction.  At  one  juncture 
a  cloud  stood  still,  apparently  about  two  hundred  yards 
off,  and  we  each  saw  our  own  shadows  gigantically  re- 
flected on  it,  surrounded  by  a  complete  rainbow  arch, 
but  a  full  circle  of  bright  prismatic  colours,  a  transfigu- 
ration of  our  shadows  almost  startling,  each,  moreover, 
seeing  only  their  own  glorification !  When  the  whole 
pageant,  lasting  nearly  an  hour,  was  past,  we  sang 
"Abide  with  me,"  and  then  the  dear  old  joyous  "  Glory 
to  Thee,  my  God." 


ORMONT  DESSUS.     September 

This  second  month  of  my  Swiss  journey  is  altogether 
different  from  the  first,  for  now  I  am  making  writing  the 


LE  TTERS  IN  1874.  229 


first  thing  instead  of  idleness.  I  am  doing  it  quite  in 
moderation,  and  taking  plenty  of  fresh  air  as  well ;  one 
can  be  out  half  the  day  and  yet  get  four  or  five  good 
hours'  writing  as  well,  under  these  circumstances,  when 
there  are  no  other  calls  whatever  upon  time  or  strength  ; 
and  this  combination  of  work  and  leisure  is  very  delight- 
ful. Besides,  I  feel  as  if  I  had  got  quite  a  fresh  start 
with  that  month's  rest ;  it  seems  as  if  nature  had  then 
walked  into  my  brain  and  taken  possession  (turning  me 
out  meanwhile),  and  given  a  kind  of  spring  cleaning! 
rubbing  up* the  furniture,  and  fresh  papering  some  of  the 
rooms,  and  cleaning  the  windows !  That  perpetual 
"moving  on,"  which  some  so  delight  in,  does  not  suit 
me  nearly  so  well  as  staying  in  a  place  and  taking  it 
easy.  The  weather  has  been  so  much  colder  and  more 
variable,  since  I  changed  my  tactics,  that  the  two  things 
coincided  beautifully  ;  for,  except  two  days,  it  has  been 
too  cold  the  last  fortnight  for  any  sitting  out  of  doors. 

I  don't  know  why  I  always  seem  to  shrink  from  writ- 
ing much,  or  even  anything,  of  the  "under  the  surface" 
life  (which  is  so  much  more  than  the  "  on  the  surface  " 
and  the  mere  surroundings),  in  my  circulars.  They 
would  be  much  fuller  if  I  told  one  tithe  of  the  hourly 
bits  of  gentle  guidance  and  clear  lovingkindness  which 
make  the  real  enjoyment,  or  of  the  perpetual  little  op- 
portunities of  a  "  word  for  Jesus  "  which  He  seems  to 
give  me,  and  often  of  real  work  for  Him,  which  yet 
seems  to  come  so  unsought,  so  easily  and  naturally,  so 
altogether  without  any  effort,  as  to  be  not  felt  to  be  any 
working  at  all.  Now  I  will  give  you  an  instance  of  how 
He  took  me.  at  my  word  the  other  day.  It  was  one  of 
the  few  warm  days,  and  I  established  myself  with  pen 


230  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

and  ink  in  a  shady  nook  by  a  little,  steep,  downhill  tor- 
rent. I  had  suddenly  got  that  sort  of  strong  impulse 
to  write  on  a  certain  theme,  without  which  I  never  do 
my  best,  but  with  which  I  always  do  my  best  poems. 

The  theme  was  a  grand  one  ("  The  Thoughts  of 
God  ")  ;  I  had  thought  of  it  for  months,  and  never  be- 
fore had  this  impulse  to  begin  upon  it ;  though,  once 
begun,  I  expected  it  to  be  one  of  my  best  poems.  I 
spent  a  little  time  in  prayer  first,  and  then  the  warning 
and  the  promise  in  Jeremiah  xv.  19  came  strongly  to  my 
mind  :  "  if  thou  take  forth  the  precious  from  the  vile, 
thou  shalt  be  as  My  mouth."  I  felt  that  wanted  looking 
into  ;  I  wanted  Him  to  take  forth  the  precious  from  the 
vile  for  me,  and  to  reveal  and  purge  away,  then  and 
there,  all  the  self  and  mingled  motive  which  would 
utterly  mar  the  work  that  I  wanted  to  be  for  His  glory. 
After  that  the  question  came,  was  I — had  He  made  me — 
just  as  willing  to  do  any  little  bit  of  work  for  Him, 
something  for  little  children  or  poor  people,  simple  and 
unseen,  as  this  other  piece  of  work,  which  might  win 
something  of  man's  praise  ?  Then  I  was  intensely 
happy  in  feeling  that  I  could  tell  HIM  that  I  had  no 
choice  at  all  about  it ;  but  would  really  rather  do  just 
what  He  chose  for  me  to  do,  whatever  it  might  be. 
However,  there  seemed  nothing  else  to  do,  so  I  began 
my  poem.  I  don't  think  I  had  written  four  lines  when 
a  labourer  with  a  scythe  came  along  a  tiny  path  to  drink 
at  the  stream  a  few  yards  below  me.  He  did  not  see 
me,  and  started  when  I  hailed  him  and  offered  him  a  little 
book.  He  climbed  up  to  receive  it,  and  then,  instead  of 
departing  as  I  expected,  deliberately  sat  down  on  a  big 
stone  at  my  feet,  and  commenced  turning  over  the 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  231 

leaves,  and  evidently  laying  himself  out  to  be  talked  to. 
So  here  was  clearly  a  little  call ;  and  I  talked  to  him 
for  some  time,  he  being  very  interested  and  responsive. 
Just  as  he  was  going  to  move  off,  two  lads,  of  about 
fifteen  and  eighteen,  his  sons,  came  crashing  through 
the  bushes  ;  I  don't  recollect  whether  the  father  beckon- 
ed them  or  not,  anyhow  up  they  came,  and  he  quietly 
sat  down  again,  and  they  sat  down  too,  and  seemed 
quite  as  willing  to  listen  to  the  "  old,  old  story  "  as  he 
had  been,  only  I  could  not  get  so  much  out  of  them. 
At  last  the  whole  crew  departed,  and  I  was  just  collect- 
ing my  thoughts  and  reviving  the  aforesaid  "  impulse," 
when  in  about  ten  minutes  the  younger  lad  reappeared, 
with  his  sister,  a  girl  of  about  seventeen.  They  did 
not  say  a  word,  but  scrambled  straight  up  to  me,  and, 
seating  themselves  at  my  feet,  looked  up  into  my  face, 
saying  by  their  look  as  plain  as  any  words,  "  Please  talk 
to  us  ! "  What  could  one  do  but  accede  !  and  they 
Btayed  at  least  another  half  hour,  so  quiet  and  inter- 
ested that  one  could  not  but  hope  the  seed  was  falling 
on  "  good  ground."  The  girl,  Felicie,  was  more  com- 
municative than  the  lads,  very  simple,  but  intelligent. 
By  the  time  they  departed  a  good  part  of  the  morning 
was  gone,  and  the  "impulse"  too!  but  I  enjoyed  the 
morning  probably  twice  as  much  as  if  I  had  done  a 
good  piece  of  my  poem  ;  and  it  seemed  so  clear  that 
the  Master  had  taken  me  at  my  word,  and  come  and 
given  me  this  to  do  for  Him  among  His  "  little  ones," 
and  that  He  was  there  hearing  and  answering  and  ac- 
cepting me,  that  it  was  worth  any  amount  of  poem- 
power. 

However,  next  day  the  "  impulse  "  came  again,  which 


232  SWISS  LETTERS. 


is  by  no  means  always  the  case  when  once  interrupted  ; 
and  once  fairly  started,  I  have  worked  out  what  I 
think  is  perhaps  the  best  poem  I  ever  wrote,  so  far  as  I 
can  judge. 

But  this  is  only  one  of  constant  instances  which  I 
could  tell.  I  do  so  feel  that  every  hour  is  distinctly 
and  definitely  guided  by  Him.  I  have  taken  Him  at 
His  word  in  everything,  and  He  takes  me  at  my  word  in 
everything.  Oh,  I  can  say  now  that  Jesus  is  "  to  me  a 
living  bright  Reality,"  and  that  He  really  and  truly  is 
"  more  dear,  more  intimately  nigh,  than  e'en  the  sweetest 
earthly  tie."  No  friendship  could  be  what  I  find  His 
to  be.  I  have  more  now  than  a  few  months  ago,  even 
though  I  was  so  happy  then  ;  for  the  joy  of  giving  my- 
self, and  my  will,  and  my  all  to  Him  seems  as  if  it  were 
succeeded,  and  even  superseded,  by  the  deeper  joy  of  a 
conscious  certainty  that  He  has  taken  all  that  He  led  me 
to  give  ;  and  "  I  am  persuaded  that  He  is  able  to  keep 
that  which  I  have  committed  unto  Him  "  :  so,  having 
entrusted  my  very  trust  to  Him,  I  look  forward  ever  so 
happily  to  the  future  (if  there  be  yet  much  of  earthly 
future  for  me)  as  "  one  vista  of  brightness  and  blessed- 
ness." Only  I  do  so  want  everybody  to  "  taste  and  see." 
Yesterday  I  somehow  came  to  a  good  full  stop  in  my 
writing  much  earlier  than  I  expected,  and  asked  what 
He  would  have  me  do  next,  go  on  or  go  out  at  once  ? 
Just  then  a  young  lady  came  in  ;  "  Had  I  just  a  few 
minutes  to  spare  ? "  So  I  went  out  with  her  at  once. 
She  had  overheard  a  short  chat  I  had  had  some  days  ago 
with  another,  didn't  know  what,  but  it  had  set  her  long- 
ing for  something  more  than  she  had  got.  She  had 
started  out  for  a  walk  alone,  thinking  and  praying,  and 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  233 

the  thought  came  to  her  to  come  straight  to  me,  which 
she  seemed  to  think  an  unaccountably  bold  step.  Well, 
God  seemed  to  give  me  exactly  the  right  message  for 
her,  just  as  with  Miss  M.  last  week,  the  two  cases  start- 
ing from  a  very  different  level,  but  the  result  the  same, 
a  real  turning-point.  Don't  conclude,  however,  from 
these  that  I  am  always  seeing  results,  because  I  am  not : 
but  that  I  am  entirely  content  about,  just  as  He  chooses 
it  to  be. 

It  has  occurred  to  me  that,  as  I  profess  to  be  "  writ- 
ing," you  will  expect  a  new  book  as  the  result,  and  will 
be  disappointed  ;  so  I  tell  you  simply  what  I  have  writ- 
ten, and  what  I  am  going  to  write. 

"  Our  Swiss  Guide."  Article  for  Sunday  Magazine, 
on  the  spiritual  analogies  in  all  sorts  of  little  details  of 
mountaineering. 

"  For  Charity."     Song  for  Hutchings  and  Romer. 

"  Enough."     Short  sacred  poem. 

"  How  much  for  Jesus  ?  "  A  sort  of  little  true  story 
for  children  ;  for  an  American  edition.* 

"  True  Hearted."  New  Year's  Address  (in  verse)  for 
Young  Women's  Christian  Association,  for  January, 

1875- 

"  Tiny  Tokens."     A  small  poem  for  Good  Words. 

"  Precious  Things."     A  poem. 

*' A  Suggestion."     Short  paper  for  Home  Words. 

"The  Precious  Blood  of  Jesus."     A  hymn. 

"  The  Thoughts  of  God."     The  aforesaid  poem. 

"  Shining  for  Jesus."  Verses  addressed  to  my  nieces 
and  nephews  at  Winterdyne. 


*  This  manuscript  we  have  no  clue  to  ;  any  information  con- 
cerning it  would  be  acceptable. 


234  SWISS  LETTERS. 

"  New  Year's  Wishes,"  by  Caswell's  request,  for  a  very 
pretty  card. 

These  are  all  written,  and  copied,  and  done  with. 
Next  week  (D.V.)  I  set  about  what  I  have  long  wanted 
to  do  :  "  Little  Pillows,"  thirty-one  short  papers  as  a 
little  book  for  children  of,  say,  twelve  years  old  ;  a  short, 
easily-recollected  text,  to  go  to  sleep  upon,  for  each  night 
of  the  month,  with  a  page  or  two  of  simple,  practical 
thoughts  about  it,  such  as  a  little  girl  might  read  every 
night  while  having  her  hair  brushed.  I  think  this  will 
take  me  about  a  fortnight  to  write  and  arrange  for  press  ; 
adding  probably  a  verse  or  two  of  a  hymn  at  the  end  of 
each  of  the  little  papers.  There  are  lots  of  little  monthly 
morning  and  evening  books  for  grown-up  people,  but  I 
don't  know  of  one  for  children  except  those  containing 
only  texts.  I  dare  say  I  shall  get  in  somehow  three 
other  little  poems  that  want  writing  (being  on  the  sim- 
mer) :  "The  Splendour  of  God's  Will,"  "The  Good 
Master,"  and  (don't  be  startled  at  the  transition)  "  Play- 
things"; also  "  Johann  von  Allmen,"  a  little  article  for 
the  Dayspring.  I  can  clear  off  things  easily  here, 
especially  through  not  having  so  many  letters.  If  I 
could  manage  three  months  every  year  in  a  Swiss  or 
Welsh  valley,  I  should  keep  my  printer  going. 


En  route.     September  29,  1874. 

I  don't  know  whether  there  will  be  enough  of  interest 
for  a  final  circular,  but  when  I  am  out  I  never  feel  in- 
clined to  do  anything  but  write  home.  As  I  did  not 
know  your  address,  I  had  to  write  my  last  to  Maria,  at 
any  rate  part  of  my  long  letter  to  her  was  to  do  duty  as 
circular. 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  235 

I  was  nearly  if  not  quite  "  the  last  rose  of  summer  " 
at  Ormont  Dessus,  the  hotel  shuts  up  on  October  i. 
But  the  last  week  was  the  most  perfect  weather  possible, 
and,  without  being  unpleasantly  hot,  was  warm  enough 
for  sitting  out  not  merely  in  the  sunshine,  but  in  the 
moonlight.  My  last  day,  Sunday,  was  one  of  the  most 
exquisite  days  imaginable,  brilliantly  clear,  the  autumn 
tints  throwing  in  touches  of  crimson  and  gold  in  splen- 
did contrast  to  the  pine  woods  ;  and,  what  is  so  rare  in 
Switzerland,  the  noon  and  afternoon  were  as  glowing  as 
the  morning,  everything  vivid  all  day. 

At  the  little  French  service  I  soon  saw  we  had  "  some- 
body "  in  the  pulpit,  and  it  was  M.  de  Pressense,  who 
is,  I  have  been  told,  one  of  the  first  French  orators. 
His  sermon  was  both  eloquent  and  good.  Madame  de 
Pressense,  the  wefl-known  writer,  was  almost  close  to 
me,  a  sweet  and  handsome-looking  elderly  lady.  Their 
daughter  has  married  M.  Bernus,  the  very  charming 
young  pastor  of  the  Eglise  Libre  at  Ormont  Dessus,  a 
curious  change  for  this  rather  elegant  and  distingue*e- 
looking  Parisienne  to  settle  down  in  little  wooden  rooms 
over  a  little  wooden  chapel  in  this  out-of-the-way  valley  ! 
M.  Bernus  is  cousin  to  Helen  Trench  that  was !  I 
found  this  out  when  I  went  to  get  books  at  the  Church 
Library.  The  people  sing  beautifully  ;  it  was  a  down- 
right treat,  in  German  choral  style  as  to  music,  slow, 
rich  harmonies  that  bear  dwelling  on  ;  one  tune  was 
Cassel,  No.  190  in  "  Havergal's  Psalmody."  It  was  such 
sweet  singing,  every  one  keeping  to  cres.  and  dim., 
neither  instrument  nor  apparently  any  stated  choir, 
but  all  the  parts  correctly  sung  by  the  peasant  con- 
gregation. 


236  SWISS  LETTERS. 

I  have  finished  not  only  "  Little  Pillows,"  but  a  com- 
panion to  it  for  morning  use,  "  Morning  Bells  " ;  both 
manuscripts  are  ready  for  the  press.  I  do  not  think  it 
is  nearly  so  easy  to  write  for  children  as  for  adults  ; 
constantly  I  refrained  from  what  I  would  most  like  to 
say  about  the  texts  I  had  chosen,  because  it  would  not 
be  simple  enough  for  the  little  ones.  I  have  purposely 
avoided  any  stories  or  anecdotes,  lest  children  should 
skim  the  book  through  in  search  of  them,  instead  of 
reading  them  morning  and  night  steadily  ;  at  least  I 
know  that  is  what  I  should  have  done.  I  do  so  hope 
these  books  will  be  really  helpful  to  some  of  Christ's  lit- 
tle ones. 

On  Monday  morning  I  left  Ormont  Dessus  at  eight 
on  foot,  sending  my  bag  '*  by  post."  By-the-bye  the 
oddest  instance  of  the  Swiss  way  of  sending  all  things 
by  post  was  when  one  day  Madame  Treina  apologised 
for  giving  me  only  chicken  for  dinner  "  because  the  beef 
had  not  come  by  post "  !  Instead  of  going  direct  to 
Montreux  by  diligence  and  rail,  I  went  for  a  three  days' 
walking  tour.  Please,  nobody  is  to  be  shocked  at  this, 
because  I  quite  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was  not 
incorrect  at  all,  and  I  found  other  ladies  doing  it.  Be- 
sides, who  is  any  the  wiser?  If  one  is  seen  marching 
alone,  one  may  have  friends  five  minutes  before  or 
behind  for  aught  any  one  knows!  I  have  really  had  a 
good  spell  at  writing,  and  I  thought  a  three  days'  march 
would  be  a  good  thing  to  finish  up  with.  It  was  a  nice 
morning,  and  I  walked  till  nearly  twelve,  and  then 
"  camped  "  till  three  in  a  mossy  nook  by  a  little  stream, 
mended  gloves,  did  my  accounts,  watched  the  water, 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  237 

and  so  forth.  Then  I  walked  on  again  and  got  to  the 
little  town  of  Saanen  at  five. 

After  crossing  the  Col  de  Pillon,  an  easy  two  hours' 
pass  out  of  the  Ormonts  valley  into  the  Saanen-thal,  it 
was  all  road,  smooth  and  level,  nothing  exciting,  but 
just  a  very  quietly  pretty  valley,  what  one  would  call 
"peaceful";  the  Ormonts  always  suggested  the  French 
term  " riante"  to  me.  The  whole  way  was  musical 
with  these  pretty  cow  bells,  as  most  of  the  herds  have 
been  brought  down  from  the  high  alps,  and  instead  of 
being  from  one  hundred  to  five  hundred  large,  they  are 
distributed  among  their  owners  for  the  winter.  A  herd 
on  the  mountains  may  belong  to  thirty  or  forty  different 
people.  The  last  fortnight  my  mountain  rambles  have 
been  all  the  more  enjoyable  for  the  descent  of  the 
"  betail  "  from  the  w  high  alps,"  so  that  they  were  per- 
fectly undisturbed.  The  high  pastures  or  "  alps,"  for 
the  meaning  is  the  same,  where  the  cows  are  in  summer, 
range  from  5,500  to  7.500  feet ;  then  in  September  they 
come  down  to  the  *'  middle  alps,"  where  hay  has  al- 
ready been  twice  made  ;  then  in  October  they  come 
down  to  the  valleys,  where  generally  there  have 
been  three  crops  of  hay.  It  is  very  systematic,  and  a 
whole  district  acts  simultaneously  in  these  pastoral  ar- 
rangements. The  middle  alps  are  enclosed  with  rough 
fencing,  so  I  don't  mind  the  beasts  there  ;  it  is  when  two 
hundred  or  three  hundred  creatures  are  loose  on  the 
high  alps,  with  no  fences  or  retreat  whatever,  that  I  ob- 
ject to  meet  them. 

This  Saanen-thal  is  more  one's  ideal  of  rural  Swiss 
life  than  almost  anything  I  have  seen  ;  no  pensions,  or 
any  signs  of  foreign  tourists,  but  pure  aboriginal.  No 


233  SWISS  LETTERS. 

one  would  believe  who  has  not  seen  it,  the  difference 
between  the  Protestant  and  Romanist  valleys.  Here  in 
the  Saanen-thal  the  chalets  are  beautiful,  as  spruce  and 
pretty  as  the  carved  things  one  sees,  and  look  roomy 
and  comfortable,  averaging  about  fifteen  windows  in 
front !  Nice  little  gardens  are  quite  the  rule,  and  in 
Ebuit,  a  small  village,  I  saw  several  quite  up  to  the  mark 
of  a  "  First  Prize  "  at  a  Perry  Barr  flower  show,  which 
is  saying  a  great  deal  ;  dahlias  seem  the  pet  flower  just 
now.  One  never  sees  any  "  gentlemen's  houses"'  the 
land  is  all  in  small  properties,  and  there  is  no  bwiss 
nobility.  The  only  things  answering  to  our  country 
houses  are  quite  near  the  larger  towns.  A  Swiss  country 
pastor's  life  must  be  peculiarly  isolated,  often  a  day's 
journey  from  any  one  except  peasants  and  peasant 
farmers. 

At  Saanen  I  put  up  at  a  queer  old-fashioned  inn,  very 
comfortable  and  very  cheap,  with  a  capital  piano,  which 
was  quite  a  treat,  as  it  is  a  good  while  since  I  have  even 
seen  one.  Tuesday  morning  was  gloomy  and  suspicious, 
so  I  started  at  a  quarter  past  seven,  but  it  did  not  rain 
till  the  afternoon.  I  reached  Chateau  D'Oex  by  half- 
past  nine,  and  was  disappointed  with  it ;  it  is  pretty,  but 
there  are  places  ten  times  more  so  within  reach  ;  yet 
heaps  of  English  stay  there.  Towards  eleven  I  got  to 
the  Gorge  de  la  Tine,  a  lovely  narrow  deep  cleft,  with 
an  almost  emerald  river  at  the  bottom,  broken  with 
white  foam  ;  I  turned  off  and  rested  on  moss  nearly  a 
foot  thick,  overlooking  this  beautiful  gorge.  Then  I 
reckoned  on  some  dinner  at  the  village.  At  quite  a  large 
tidy-looking  inn  outside,  I  asked  for  some  cold  meat, 
and  to  be  shown  into  the  salon  till  it  was  ready. 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  239 

Thereupon  the  very  cheerful  little  waitress  ushered 
me  into  their  idea  of  a  "  salon,"  a  room  with  one  table 
covered  with  oilcloth  on  which  I  was  to  dine,  and  an- 
other of  sticks  nailed  across  like  an  arbour  table,  a  bed 
in  one  corner,  a  big  box  with  three  puppies  in  another, 
and  three  chairs.  The  floor  might  have  been  washed 
last  year  or  the  year  before !  Then  for  the  dinner, 
"  they  were  sorry  they  had  not  what  I  asked  for,  but 
would  do  the  best  they  could  for  madame."  So  in  came 
a  dish  with  four  little  squares  of  lukewarm  lean  bacon 
nearly  black,  and  four  ditto  of  fat.  Another  dish  of 
two  cold  potatoes  cut  in  half  and  dipped  in  some  sort 
of  brown  juice,  and  with  these  half  a  dozen  warm  baked 
pears.  Further,  some  very  oily,  salad  ;  however,  I  am 
not  particular,  fortunately !  Meanwhile  the  mother  of 
the  puppies  aforesaid  showed  a  positive  determination 
not  to  let  me  leave  the  place  without  having  a  piece 
out  of  me  ;  she  watched  every  opportunity  of  the  door 
being  ajar  to  come  in  and  make  a  rush  at  me  ;  twice  it 
came  to  a  regular  fight  with  my  alpenstock !  Every 
time  they  shut  her  up  she  got  loose,  and  came  at  me 
again. 

I  have  none  of  the  nervousness  about  dogs  that  I  have 
about  bulls,  still  when  I  found  she  really  meant  mischief, 
I  thought,  rain  or  no  rain,  I  would  push  on  to  some 
more  hospitable  quarters.  So  I  trudged  on  to  Montbo- 
von,  rather  out  of  my  way  ;  but  it  began  to  rain,  and  I 
did  not  care  to  walk  three  miles  in  a  pour  to  Allieres, 
which  is  some  way  up  the  Col  de  Jaman.  The  Mont- 
bovon  hotel  folks,  who  were  very  pleasing,  told  me  I 
should  find  accommodation  in  the  auberge  at  Allieres, 
not  very  luxurious,  but  I  should  be  "  very  well  "  there. 


240  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

This  being  evidently  disinterested  advice,  I  relied  on  it 
and  departed.  However,  for  the  first  and  only  time  in 
Switzerland,  I  found  a  strange  contrast  to  the  usual 
civility  and  even  kindness  of  the  people.  I  got  there 
about  a  quarter  past  six,  and  found  it  just  a  remove  bet- 
ter than  the  Sennbiitte,  which  you  will  remember  we 
camped  at  on  our  way  from  Miirren. 

A  tall,  bold,  rough  girl,  of  twenty-five  or  so,  let  me 
in.  "  Yes,  you  can  have  a  room  when  it's  ready,  not 
before.  Here,  in  here !  "  And  she  ushered  me  into  a 
dark,  dirty  room  with  tables  and  benches,  marched  off, 
and  shut  the  door.  I  did  not  like  my  quarters  at  all, 
but  there  was  no  help  for  it,  as  it  would  be  impossible 
for  me  to  cross  the  col  or  even  get  back  to  Montbovon 
in  the  dark.  But  of  course  I  had  been  asking  all  along 
to  be  guided,  so  I  was  not  uneasy,  but  expected  I  had 
been  guided  there  for  some  good  reason,  perhaps  some 
wandering  sheep  to  be  found.  It  got  quite  dark,  and 
then  five  or  six  men  came  in,  and  she  brought  a  candle, 
and  they  sat  down  at  one  of  the  tables  and  smoked.  I 
hardly  think  they  saw  me.  I  asked  if  my  room  was 
ready.  "  No,  you  must  wait !  "  and  out  she  darted, 
slamming  the  door.  So  I  waited,  sitting  on  my  bench 
in  my  dark  corner  for  nearly  an  hour,  she  coming  rough- 
ly in  and  out,  talking  noisily  and  bringing  wine  for  the 
men.  At  last — "You  can  come  upstairs  now  !"  So  I 
went,  glad  enough. 

It  was  not  quite  so  dirty  as  downstairs,  but  not  bril- 
liant. A  jug  and  basin  on  the  table  was  all  the  appara- 
tus ;  the  bed  was  barley  straw,  no  pillow,  but  a  pink 
cotton  bolster.  "  Are  you  going  to  bed  now  ?  "  she 
asked.  I  told  her  yes,  very  soon.  About  eight  o'clock, 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  241 

just  as  I  really  was  going  to  bed,  came  a  sharp,  angry 
rap  at  my  door.  I  was  glad  it  was  locked,  for  before  I 
could  answer  the  handle  was  rattled  violently. 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Are  you  going  to  burn  the  candle  all  night  ?  How 
soon  are  you  going  to  put  it  out,  I  should  like  to  know ! 
burning  it  all  away  '  comme  cela  ! '  '  I  considered  it 
advisable  to  answer  very  meekly,  so  I  merely  said  it 
should  be  put  out  in  a  few  minutes,  whereupon  she 
banged  downstairs.  '  It  seemed  to  me  that  this  was 
an  "  opportunity,"  so  I  asked  God  that  when  morning 
carr.e  He  would  shut  her  mouth  and  open  mine. 

Wednesday  morning  I  was  up  at  daybreak,  having 
gone  to  bed  so  early.  At  first  the  whole  sky  was  cloud- 
ed, and  I  feared  I  had  lost  my  excursion,  for  the  beau- 
tiful Col  de  Jaman  is  just  one  of  those  which  it  is  worse 
than  useless  to  cross  except  in  good  weather.  However, 
at  sunrise  the  whole  veil  was  withdrawn  within  a  few 
minutes,  and  a  more  glorious  morning  could  not  be. 
I  came  down  about  half-past  six.  My  friend  was  pot- 
tering over  the  fire  with  a  big  kettle.  I  asked  her  to 
get  me  some  coffee.  "  Can't  have  coffee  till  it's  made !  " 
said  she  savagely.  So 'I  went  and  sat  outside  the  door 
and  waited  patiently.  In  about  half  an  hour  she  poked 
her  head  out.  "  Do  you  want  anything  besides  coffee  ?  " 
still  in  a  tone  as  if  I  were  a  mortal  enemy !  I  suggest- 
ed bread  and  butter.  "  Butter !  "  (as  if  I  had  asked  for 
turtle  soup!)  "there  is  none,  but  you  can  have  apiece 
of  bread  if  you  like."  So  I  had  my  coffee  and  a  hunch 
of  bread  ;  but  I  don't  pity  anybody  who  breakfasts  on 
Swiss  bread  and  milk. 

Then  it  was  my  turn !     I  went  close  to  her,  looked 
16 


242  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

up  into  her  wicked-looking  eyes,  and  put  my  hand  on 
her  arm  and  said  (as  gently  as  possible)  :  "  You  are  not 
happy  ;  I  know  you  are  not."  She  darted  the  oddest 
look  at  me  ;  a  sort  of  startled,  half  frightened  look,  as 
if  she  thought  I  was  a  witch !  I  saw  I  had  touched  the 
right  string  and  followed  it  up,  telling  her  how  I  saw 
last  night  she  was  unhappy,  even  when  she  was  laugh- 
ing and  joking,  and  how  I  had  prayed  for  her  ;  and 
then,  finding  she  was  completely  tamed,  spoke  to  her 
quite  plainly  and  solemnly,  and  then  about  Jesus  and 
what  He  could  do  for  her.  She  made  a  desperate  ef- 
fort not  to  cry.  She  listened  in  a  way  that  I  am  sure 
nothing  but  God's  hand  upon  her  could  have  made  her 
listen,  and  took  "  A  Saviour  for  You "  (in  French), 
promising  to  read  it,  and  thanking  me  over  and  ovei 
again.  The  remaining  few  minutes  I  was  in  the  house 
she  was  as  respectful  and  quiet  as  one  could  wish.  I 
also  got  a  talk  with  her  old  mother.  So  if  God  grants 
this  to  be  the  checking  of  this  poor  girl  in  what  1  should 
imagine  to  be  a  very  downward  path,  was  it  not  well 
worth  getting  out  of  the  groove  of  one's  usual  comforts 
and  civilities  ? 

Then  I  trudged  on  up  the  col,  and  as  I  heard  the 
bells  of  a  large  herd  ahead  I  put  myself  under  convoy 
of  a  little  group  of  peasants,  a  woman,  two  men,  and  a 
lad ;  they  were  bright  and  intelligent,  and  seemed 
greatly  to  enjoy  asking  me  questions  about  England, 
and  were  immensely  gratified  at  my  admiration  of  their 
own  beautiful  "patrie,"  so  this  made  a  nice  opening  for 
further  talk  about  the  more  beautiful  country  above,  and 
how  to  get  there.  I  stayed  some  time  on  the  top  of  the 
col,  which  I  reached  in  about  an  hour  and  a  half;  the  view 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  243 


was  singular  and  fine  ;  the  lake  of  Geneva  was  hidden 
under  an  expanse  of  smooth  white  cloud,  out  of  which  the 
opposite  mountains  rose  into  an  atmosphere  as  trans- 
parent as  possible,  while  the  farther  heights  above  Lau- 
sanne loomed  through  a  strange  blue  haze  ;  all  the  rest 
of  the  view  was  vividly  clear  in  splendid  sunshine.  It 
is  about  three  hours  down  to  Montreux  ;  very  pretty  all 
the  way,  till  you  come  through  uninteresting  vineyards, 
like  the  Rhine  ones,  three  feet  high,  and  not  so  pretty 
as  raspberry  beds. 

I  got  here  (Montreux)  about  noon,  and  turned  into  a 
hotel-pension  conveniently  close  to  the  station. 

A  nice  letter  from  Miss  E.  J.  Whately,  forwarded 
from  Ormont,  was  awaiting  me  ;  she  has  been  delayed 
in  England,  and  is  now  staying  at  Spa,  and  cannot  get 
here  even  if  I  waited  a  week  for  her,  so  we  hope  to  meet 
another  time.  They  are  chiefly  English  in  this  pension, 
but  not  the  sort  who  would  care  for  me  or  I  for  them,  I 
fancy.  I  have  been  a  stroll  this  afternoon,  and  am  now 
writing  in  my  room  before  bedtime.  I  can't  think  how 
I  shall  do  with  English  hours,  after  my  early  ones  here. 
That  reminds  me  several  have  asked  me  to  say  how  I 
am.  Very  well  indeed,  thank  God.  But  I  really  do  not 
feel  sure  whether  I  have  "laid  in  a  stock  of  strength," 
i.e.  whether  I  shall  be  able  to  do  any  more  in  England 
than  I  have  done,  without  getting  so  very  tired.  For 
here  I  have  been  taking  so  much  rest,  and  doing  abso- 
lutely nothing  to  tire  myself,  and  in  every  way  setting 
health  first,  that  I  have  had  the  best  possible  chance. 
Except  at  Sepey,  where  I  had  two  or  three  bad  nights,  I 
have  been  perfectly  well  the  whole  time,  and  now  I 
really  do  mean  to  try  and  be  very  prudent  with  the 


244  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

health  God  has  given  me,  only  of  course  I  do  not  mean 
to  be  idle  ;  I  seek  to  gain  strength  that  I  may  use  it. 
On  the  Col  de  Jaman  I  was  greatly  tempted  to  go  up 
the  Dent  de  Jaman,  a  most  inviting  rocky  peak,  com- 
manding a  splendid  panorama  ;  but  it  would  have  been 
two  hours'  extra  exertion,  and  I  thought  I  had  better 
eonomise  strength,  and  not  run  even  a  remote  risk  to 
finish  up  with. 

Last  Saturday  week  I  was  for  a  few  minutes  in  (I  be- 
lieve) imminent  danger,  which  I  never  was  to  my  knowl- 
edge before.  It  was  most  utterly  unexpected  and  un- 
foreseen, or  I  should  not  of  course  have  dreamt  of  putting 
myself  in  such  a  fix.  I  was  having  a  higher  afternoon 
scramble  than  usual,  having  waited  for  some  time  for 
a  clear  day  to  ascend  a  certain  point  (not  a  summit) 
on  the  great  rocky  mountain,  Sex  Rouge,  from  which  I 
expected  a  peculiarly  fine  view.  In  two  hours  and  forty 
minutes  I  reached  my  point,  the  edge  of  a  shoulder  over 
which  I  saw  right  into  the  midst  of  the  great  glaciers, 
and  at  the  foot  of  a  wall  of  great  rocks  which  prevented 
further  progress.  It  was  merely  a  cow-track  up  to  the 
highest  alp  most  of  the  way,  but  beyond  that  came  thirty- 
five  minutes  of  very  steep  slope,  partly  poor  grass  and 
partly  loose  stones,  but  not  so  bad  as  to  make  me  hesi- 
tate about  climbing  it.  However,  I  found  it  more  awk- 
ward coming  down  than  I  expected  ;  so  I  scanned  the 
place  carefully,  and  fancied  I  could  make  out  a  much 
easier  descent  by  making  a  certain  angle  farther  down 
the  edge  of  the  shoulder,  and  then  striking  across  the 
slope.  I  thought  I  had  taken  my  bearings  very  accu- 
rately, a  thing  I  seldom  fail  to  find  myself  exact  in  ;  but 
somehow  I  lost  them  and  trended  too  far  to  the  left  be- 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  245 

fore  ending  the  angle.  It  had  certainly  promised  to  be 
far  easier  than  the  other  way,  but  after  leaving  the 
shoulder  T  found  it  getting  worse  and  worse  ;  still  I 
thought  every  minute  a  few  steps  more  would  end  the 
difficulty,  so  I  crept  on  carefully  across  the  small  loose 
stones  until  I  found  it  so  steep  that  it  would  be  nearly 
impossible  to  take  any  more  steps  without  sliding  down, 
stones  and  all.  I  had  been  so  sure  of  my  bearings  that 
I  had  been  only  looking  at  my  footing  till  then  ;  but 
on  pulling  up  to  take  a  wider  view  of  things,  I  was 
startled  to  see  that  instead  of  only  a  slope  below  me, 
which  one  might  have  slid  down  with  impunity,  there 
was  a  precipice  not  twenty  feet  below  where  I  stood,  a 
sheer  edge  with  nothing  whatever  to  catch  at,  not  a  bush 
or  rock  or  boulder,  nothing  but  the  slipping  stonea 
which  threatened  to  give  way  under  my  feet  every  in 
stant.  I  believe  that  if  I  had  felt  the  least  confused  or 
nervous  I  should  have  been  lost,  for  the  smallest  wrong 
movement  of  foot  or  of  balance  would  have  been  enough 
to  send  me  and  the  stones  down  what  must  have  been 
a  fatal  slope.  I  stood  quite  still,  while  I  commit- 
ted it  all  deliberately  to  Him  who  could  keep  my  feet 
from  falling,  and  then  did  what  I  could.  I  found  it 
would  be  positively  more  dangerous  to  attempt  to  turn 
round  ;  so  the  only  thing  was,  as  cautiously  as  possible, 
to  work  foothold  with  my  alpenstock,  moving  one  foot 
forward  into  it,  and  then  working  another,  and  so  on. 
In  less  than  five  minutes  I  had  passed  the  worst,  and  in 
about  ten  was  beyond  all  danger.  I  cannot  understand 
how  I  got  there  ;  there  was  some  peculiar  ocular  delu- 
sion about  the  slope  which  altogether  misled  me  ;  it 
looked  as  if  every  step  must  land  me  on  a  less  steep 


246  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

slope,  instead  of  which  it  was  worse  at  every  step.     I 
have  come  across  no  parallel  to  it. 

Connie  and  Elizabeth  will  recollect  the  steep  shale 
slope  where  Abraham  picked  steps  for  us  up  the  last 
part  of  the  Diindengrat ;  it  was  much  steeper  than  that, 
sharp  rocky  little  stones  instead  of  shale,  and  the  preci- 
pice just  below !  Though  God  kept  me  perfectly  calm 
and  cool  at  the  time,  I  could  not  think  of  it  for  days 
afterwards  without  shuddering,  and  it  will  certainly  make 
me  more  cautious  not  only  how  I  go,  but  where  I  go,  if 
ever  I  have  any  more  mountaineering.  Yet  this  was 
apparently  a  most  innocent  little  excursion  ;  not  one  I 
should  ever  have  thought  of  taking  a  guide  for,  or  ex- 
pecting to  find  the  least  difficulty. 


DlJON.     October  2. 

I  left  Montreux  Thursday  at  noon.  I  determined  to 
try  the  experiment  of  day  instead  of  night  travelling  for 
a  long  journey.  As  one  can  only  go  first  class  by  the 
night  expresses,  one  actually  saves  by  sleeping  on  the 
way,  as  two  nights  at  hotels  do  not  equal  the  difference 
between  first  and  second  class,  and  the  second  class  car- 
riages are  quite  equal  to  our  first.  I  think  the  home 
journey  will  be  less  tiring  this  way,  as  it  is  cool  weather  ; 
if  hot,  then  night  is  best.  Besides,  just  now  the  home- 
w-ard  trains  are  all  so  very  full  that  one  could  not  have 
the  least  chance  of  room  to  lie  down,  and  it  would  be 
intolerable  to  sit  bolt  upright  all  night.  I  can  sleep 
anywhere  if  I  can  only  lie  down,  but  I  can't  do  with  sit- 
ting up. 

So  my  Thursday's  journey  was  only  from  Montreux 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  247 

to  Dole,  which  I  reached  at  nine  P.M.  I  waited  from 
three  to  four  at  Auvernier,  a  tiny  junction  station  near 
Neuchatel ;  the  rest  of  the  world  goes  on  to  Neuchatel 
and  back  again,  getting  the  benefit  of  twenty  minutes 
extra  riding,  and  a  great  noisy  station  for  hurried  re- 
freshments. But  turning  out  at  Auvernier  I  had  an 
hour's  quiet  rest  on  a  bench  at  a  little  table  overlooking 
the  lake,  with  a  last  view  of  the  snow  mountains  gleam- 
ing among  clouds.  There  were  several  countrywomen 
getting  refreshment,  cafe  noir  and  vin  du  pays  ;  and 
tracts  were  quite  a  new  idea  to  them  ;  they  were  uncom- 
monly delighted,  and  wished  me  all  manner  of  good 
things,  nearly  equal  to  Irish  benedictions. 

I  had  sunshine  up  to  the  last  hour  in  Switzerland,  but 
on  entering  the  Jura  heavy  rain  came  on  ;  nothing  could 
have  been  more  delicious,  for  it  laid  all  the  dust,  which 
is  so  extra  horrible  on  the  way  to  Paris. 

I  seem  to  have  a  way  of  getting  into  queer  situations, 
and  always  coming  out  of  them  all  right ;  so  at  Pontar- 
lier,  where  the  train  stops  twenty  minutes,  I  got  out  for 
some  refreshment,  and  on  coming  back  to  what  I  felt 
sure  was  my  carriage  every  vestige  of  my  effects  was 
gone,  carpet-bag,  alpenstock,  and  all.  Then  ensued  a 
hunt  for  pretty  nearly  half  an  hour,  the  train  for  some 
unknown  reason  stopping  forty  instead  of  twenty  min- 
utes, just  as  if  for  my  private  convenience.  Now  fancy 
me  scampering  at  the  heels  of  a  man  with  a  red  light,  it 
being  perfectly  dark,  and  no  gas  outside  the  station,  all 
over  a  labyrinth  of  rails  and  trucks  and  empty  carriages 
and  live  engines,  hunting  for  various  carriages  which 
had  been  detached  from  our  train,  as  the  officials  would 
have  it  I  was  mistaken  about  the  carriage.  I  could  not 


248  SWISS  LETTERS. 

help  laughing  at  the  position,  dodging  full  tear  in  and 
out  of  sheds  and  across  turning  tables,  behind  the  red 
lamp,  as  if  it  were  a  will  o'  the  wisp.  I  was  about  giving 
it  up  as  hopeless,  and  decided  on  staying  the  night  at 
Pontarlier,  when  an  official  suddenly  shouted  to  me  from 
behind  a  pump,  "  Est-ce  la  vos  effets,  madame  ?  "  And 
sure  enough  it  all  was,  though  nobody  ever  knew  how  it 
got  there.  So  I  went  comfortably  back  to  my  own  car- 
riage and  had  no  further  adventures. 

In  the  compartment  were  two  respectable  men  from 
West  Bromwich,  who  had  been  to  Lucerne  for  a  three 
weeks'  holiday  with  Cook's  tickets  ;  they  applied  to  me 
to  interpret  something  for  them,  and  this  led  to  a  little 
talk,  which  speedily  drifted  as  usual  into  better  things, 
to  which  I  found  a  decided  response.  I  had  alluded  to 
Christ's  work  for  us,  and  the  one  to  whom  I  was  talking 
said  quickly:  "Yes,  Miss,  it's  a  transfer,  that's  the 
word ;  the  last  three  days  I've  had  that  word  always  in 
my  mind  ;  that's  just  what  it  is,  a  transfer.  He  takes 
our  sins  and  makes  over  His  righteousness  to  us."  Then 
he  told  me  that  he  had  met  on  the  Rigi  an  invalid  Irish 
clergyman  who  seemed  full  of  that  one  thing  ;  "  he  began 
with  the  finished  work  and  he  ended  with  the  finished 
work  ;  and  I  never  saw  it  so  clearly  before,  though  I 
have  been,  so  to  say,  looking  about  for  it  this  long  time  ; 
it  was  worth  all  the  journey  there  and  back  to  get  hold 
of  this  view."  It  seemed  curious  that  such  an  excellent 
clergyman  should  be  obliged  to  give  up  his  living  from 
ill  health,  and  ordered  abroad  ;  but  he  was  sowing  the 
seed  in  fifty  places  instead  of  one.  Yes,  that  great  trans- 
fer, it  is  blessed  !  Was  not  this  a  nice  instance  of  the  real 
use  of  such  seed  sowing  ? 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  249 

At  Dole  I  omnibused  to  the  Hotel  de  Geneve,  where 
I  was  extremely  comfortable. 

Friday,  a  lovely  morning,  my  train  left  at  9.27  ;  but  I 
had  an  hour's  stroll  about  the  town  and  suburbs,  which 
I  had  specially  planned  to  do,  thinking  it  an  unusually 
good  opportunity  for  tract  distribution,  being  not  at  all 
a  likely  place  for  other  sowers  to  have  been  at  work  ; 
so  I  finished  up  the  rest  of  my  supply. 

It  was  not  much  more  than  an  hour  to  Dijon,  where 
I  had  to  wait  till  2.36  ;  so,  as  I  had  only  had  one  proper 
dinner  since  Sunday,  I  thought  I  had  better  come  to  this 
Hotel  du  Jura  and  have  a  long  rest  and  a  good  meal  at 
table  d'hote  !  I  struck  up  with  some  lively  English,  who 
turn  out  to  be  relatives  of  Miss  Weldon,  of  Kidder 
minster. 

Travelling  in  cool  weather  does  make  an  enormoun 
difference  in  fatigue.  I  got  to  Paris  at  10.36  P.M.  It 
had  rained  most  of  the  way,  so  it  was  a  nice,  clean,  cool 
journey.  On  arriving  I  drove  in  a  tiny  open  carriage, 
which  was  most  refreshing,  to  Cook's  Hotel,  thinking  it 
a  better  plan  to  go  where  heaps  of  Swiss  tourists  go 
than  to  any  other  hotel.  I  had  a  most  paternal  driver, 
really  such  a  nice  fellow,  who  told  me  I  was  "  trop 
jeune  "  to  travel  "  toute  seule  " !  and  wondered  I  was 
not  afraid.  So  this  led  to  a  small  sermon  on  God's  care 
and  love,  which  he  seemed  to  think  interesting.  I  was 
very  comfortable  at  the  hotel ;  and  though  I  had  a  short 
night,  it  was  a  good  one,  for  I  "  paid  attention  to  it,"  as 
Mr.  Dowling  says  he  does  when  he  goes  to  bed  for  only 
three  hours. 

In  the  train  I  had  one  of  those  curious  musical  vis- 
ions, which  very  rarely  visit  me.  I  hear  strange  and  very 


250  SWISS  LETTERS. 

beautiful  chords,  generally  full,  slow  and  grand,  succeed- 
ing each  other  in  most  interesting  sequences.  I  do  not 
invent  them,  I  could  not ;  they  pass  before  my  mind, 
and  I  only  listen.  Now  and  then  my  will  seems  aroused, 
when  I  see  ahead  how  some  fine  resolution  might  fol- 
low, and  I  seem  to  will  that  certain  chords  should  come, 
and  then  they  do  come  ;  but  then  my  will  seems  sus- 
pended again,  and  they  go  on  quite  independently.  It 
is  so  interesting,  the  chords  seem  to  fold  over  each 
other  and  die  away  down  into  music  of  infinite  softness ; 
and  then  they  unfold,  and  open  out  as  if  great  curtains 
were  being  withdrawn  one  after  another,  widening  the 
view,  till  with  a  gathering  power  and  intensity  and  ful- 
ness it  seems  as  if  the  very  skies  were  being  opened  out 
before  me,  and  a  sort  of  great  blaze  and  glory  of  music, 
such  as  my  outside  ears  never  heard,  gradually  swells 
out  in  perfectly  sublime  splendour.  This  time  there 
was  an  added  feature  :  I  seemed  to  hear  depths  and 
heights  of  sound  beyond  the  scale  which  human  ears 
can  receive;  keen,  far-up  octaves,  like  vividly  twinkling 
starlight  of  music  ;  and  mighty,  slow  vibrations  of  gigan- 
tic strings,  going  down  into  grand  thunders  of  depths, 
octaves  below  anything  otherwise  appreciable  as  musical 
notes.  Then  all  at  once  it  seemed  as  if  my  soul  had 
got  a  new  sense,  and  I  could  see  this  inner  music  as  well 
as  hear  it ;  and  then  it  was  like  gazing  down  into  mar- 
vellous abysses  of  sound  and  up  into  dazzling  regions 
of  what  to  the  eye  would  have  been  light  and  colour, 
but  to  this  new  sense  was  sound.  Was  it  not  odd?  It 
lasted  perhaps  half  an  hour,  but  I  don't  know  exactly, 
and  it  is  very  difficult  to  describe  in  words. 

Saturday  the  people  called  me  at  5.30  A.M.,  saying 


LETTERS  IN  1874.  251 

the  tidal  train  went  at  seven.  So  T  was  off  at  6.35,  and 
on  reaching  the  station  found  the  train  that  day  was  not 
till  9.10.  However,  it  turned  out  for  the  best,  of  course. 
I  went  on  to  Boulogne  by  a  7.30  train,  and  thus  had 
time  for  a  two  hours'  rest  and  an  unhurried  meal,  which 
I  think  was  a  better  preparation  for  the  crossing  than  a 
hurried  scalding  with  soup  or  coffee  and  a  rush  to  the 
boat.  It  was  a  bad  look-out  in  any  case,  for  the  wind 
was  tremendous,  so  that  it  was  positively  difficult  to 
walk  along  the  quays,  which  are  supposed  to  be  quite 
sheltered,  and  even  in  this  harbour  the  boat  swayed  so 
that  it  was  not  easy  to  get  on  board.  But  for  being 
Saturday  I  almost  think  I  should  have  waited  ;  but  I 
made  up  my  mind  to  endurance,  and  went.  I  shall 
never  folrget  the  first  stride  of  the  vessel  out  of  the  har- 
bour, I  never  felt  anything  like  it  as  she  met  the  first 
wave,  it  was  just  a  sheer  leap  and  a  plunge !  Now  I 
take  it  to  be  a  proof  that  I  really  must  be  very  much 
stronger,  for  although  it  was  so  rough  I  was  not  nearly  so 
ill  as  usual.  I  had  not  that  terrible  sense  of  utter  illness 
which  one  fancies  must  be  like  actual  dying  ;  and  I  felt 
most  thankful  for  the  comparative  exemption  and  the 
sign  of  strength.  I  should  think  there  were  three  hun- 
dred people  to  watch  the  unfortunates  come  on  shore  ! 
it  was  regularly  running  a  gauntlet. 

I  came  on  to  London,  feeling  quite  well,  and  went 
straight  to"  Clapton  Square  ;  I  had  telegraphed  to  them 
from  Folkestone^  and  got  in  about  8.30,  the  boat  being 
an  hour  late  from  the  head  wind. 

It  was  rather  nice  that  I  had  an  opportunity  of  a  last 
bit  of  "  holiday  work  "  in'the  very  last  five  minutes  be- 
fore coming  to  anchor  at  the  H.'s.  I  was  looking  for  a 


252  SWISS  LETTERS. 

boy  to  carry  my  bag  ;  two  poor  little  chaps  were  so 
eager  that  I  chartered  them  both  ;  one  was  a  matchbox 
boy,  and  the  other  selling  papers  ;  they  trotted  on  each 
side  of  me,  as  I  divided  my  small  burdens  between  them, 
not  liking  to  disappoint  either  ;  and  after  having  told 
the  "  old,  old  story "  so  many  times  in  German  and 
French,  it  was  uncommonly  pleasant  to  give  a  little  of 
its  sweet  music  in  English  to  these  poor  little  London 
lads ;  they  were  so  attentive  and  apparently  interested. 
I  wish  you  had  seen  and  heard  the  welcome  I  got 
here!  it  was  so  nice,  and  altogether  I  was  so  happy. 
Curious  that  you  should  have  sent  me  Psalm  ciii. 
1—3  ;  my  mind  was  specially  full  of  it,  only  adding  verses 
4  and  5.  I  have  so  very,  very  much  to  bless  Him  for, 
and  the  beautiful  sequence  of  five  blessings  seemed  to 
gum  it  all  up:  "  forgiveth,"  "  healeth,"  "redeemeth," 
"  crowneth  thee  with  lovingkindness  and  tender  mercies," 
and  "  satisfieth  thy  mouth  with  good  things."  What  a 
great  deal  it  is !  And  really  I  may  add,  "  so  that  thy 
youth  is  renewed  like  the  eagle's,"  for  I  feel  so  mentally 
fresh  and  unweary,  and  the  H.'s  all  say  they  never  saw 
me  looking  anything  like  so  well.  So  herewith  ends  the 
"  circular  "  series  of  1874 ! 


X. 
GOLDEN    LAND. 

FAR  from  home,  alone  I  wander 

Over  mountain  and  pathless  wave  ; 
But  the  fair  land  that  shineth  yonder 

Claimeth  the  love  that  erst  it  gave. 
Golden  Land,  so  far,  so  nearing  ! 

Land  of  those  who  wait  for  me  ! 
Ever  brighter  the  vision  cheering, 

Golden  Land,  I  haste  to  thee  ! 
On  my  path  a  golden  sunlight 

Softly  falls  where'er  I  roam. 
And  I  know  it  is  the  one  light 

Both  of  exile  and  of  home. 
Golden  Land,  so  far,  so  near, 
On  my  heart  engraven  clear, 
Though  I  wander  from  strand  to  strand, 
Dwells  my  heart  in  that  Golden  Land. 

PENSION  WENGEN,  i$tA  September,  1876. 

(253) 


XI. 

OUR   SWISS   GUIDE. 

WRITTEN  IN  1874. 
(Reprinted  from  the  "Sunday  Magazine.") 

NOT  the  least  interesting  part  of  mountaineering  is  the 
perpetual  upspringing  of  lessons  and  illustrations  and 
analogies.  Sometimes  an  idea  starts  up  which  has,  for 
one's  self,  all  the  delicious  charm  of.  a  quite  new 
thought,  though  very  likely  it  may  have  flashed  upon 
the  minds  of  scores  of  other  travellers  ;  sometimes  a  very 
old  and  familiar  one  presents  itself,  and  we  have  the 
pleasure  of  proving  it,  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  by 
practical  experience.  •  In  noting  one  little  group  of 
illustrations  among  many,  those  which  cluster  round  the 
idea  of  a  "  Guide,"  we  shall  not  be  careful  to  steer  clear 
of  such  old  ideas,  though  we  may  hope  to  add  some 
freshness  to  them. 

The  application  throughout  will  be  so  very  obvious  to 
any  rnind  accustomed  to  take  the  least  interest  in 
analogies  of  spiritual  life,  that  we  prefer  giving  the 
points  of  illustration  only,  leaving  the  reader  to  supply 
the  "  heavenly  meaning  "  which  shall  underlie  each  sen- 
tence. 

(254; 


OUR  SWISS  GUIDE.  255 

Curiously  enough,  the  name  of  our  favourite  Swiss 
guide,  the  one  who  inspired  us  with  most  confidence, 
and  to  whom  we  should  most  like  to  entrust  ourselves 
in  any  future  tour,  at  once  gave  the  keynote  of  thought ; 
it  was  Joseph.  While  we  instinctively  trusted  his  sagacity 
and  strength,  it  was  additionally  pleasant  to  find  that 
our  bright  young  guide  was  a  believer  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  OUT  true  Joseph.  He  had  remarked  that 
his  great  physical  strength  and  health  was  "the  most 
splendid  earthly  Gift,"  but  on  our  mention  of  the  most 
glorious  Gift  of  all,  our  Saviour  Christ  himself,  he  re- 
joined fervently,  "Ah,  one  can  never  estimate  the  value 
of  that  gift !  " 

But  to  proceed  to  our  illustrations. 

i.  The  first  duty  of  a  really  first-rate  guide,  when  ar- 
ranging for  a  long  snow  or  glacier  excursion,  is  to  see 
that  we  are  properly  provided  with  everything  needful. 
He  ascertains  that  you  have  snow  spectacles,  without 
which  the  glare  of  the  snow  is  not  simply  inconvenient, 
but  injurious  ;  and  veils,  without  which  you  stand  a  fair 
chance  of  finding  your  face  completely  flayed,  if  it  should 
be  a  sunny  day.  He  examines  the  spike  of  your  alpen- 
stock and  the  nails  of  your  boots,  and  inquires  after  your 
wraps,  and  often  gives  curiously  practical  advice  as  to 
other  points  in  your  outfit.  He  not  only  tells  you  what 
you  must  have  as  to  provision,  but,  if  the  excursion  in- 
volves a  night  in  some  mountain  hut,  he  sends  on  the 
necessary  fuel  and  food,  and  sometimes  even  bedding. 
In  all  these  matters  you  do  not  need  to  trouble  at  all  ; 
if  you  will  only  leave  it  altogether  to  him,  he  will  think 
of  everything,  arrange  everything,  and  provide  every- 
thing ;  and  when  the  time  comes  you  will  find  all  in 


256  SWISS  LETTERS. 

order,  your  shoes  fresh  nailed,  your  alpenstock  newly 
spiked,  the  porter  sent  on  with  provision,  and  the  coil 
of  strong  rope  and  the  ice-axe  all  ready  for  the  difficult 
places  which  you  do  not  yet  know.of. 

But  many  travellers  do  not  even  know  that  the  guide 
is  thus  willing  and  competent ;  they  do  not  ask,  or  per- 
haps they  even  decline,  his  aid  and  advice.  Instead  of 
throwing  it  all  upon  his  responsibility,  they  take  all  the 
trouble  themselves,  and  then  generally  find  something 
gone  wrong  or  something  overlooked. 

2.  Before  you  start,  the  guide  has  disposed  of  all  those 
heavier  matters  which  you  could  not  possibly  carry  for 
yourself.  Very  often  they  are  taken  completely  out  of 
your  sight.  Encumbered  with  these,  you  could  not 
even  set  out  on  your  journey,  much  less  progress  quickly 
and  pleasantly. 

But  there  are  always  plenty  of  little  affairs  which  seem 
mere  nothings  at  first,  but  which  are  soon  found  to  be 
real  burdens.  The  guide  is  perfectly  willing  to  relieve 
you  of  all  these.  They  are  no  weight  to  him  ;  he  quite 
smiles  at  the  idea  of  its  being  any  trouble  to  him  to  carry 
them,  but  they  make  a  serious  difference  to  you.  He 
offers  to  take  them  at  first ;  and  if  you  decline,  though 
he  may  not  perhaps  offer  again,  he  will  cheerfully  take 
them  when,  later  on,  you  feel  their  weight,  and  hand 
them  one  by  one  to  him,  till  the  very  last  is  given  up, 
and  you  walk  lightly  and  freely.  A  beginner  says  she 
"  would  rather  carry  her  little  knapsack,  it  is  really  no 
weight  at  all !  "  and  thinks  a  parcel  or  two  in  her  pocket 
"  can't  make  any  difference,"  and  prefers  wearing  her 
waterproof,  because  "  it  isn't  at  all  heavy."  But  she  has 
not  gone  far  before  she  is  very  glad,  if  a  sensible  girl,  to 


OUR  SWISS  GUIDE.  257 

give  up  her  knapsack,  tiny  though  it  be  ;  and  then  she 
finds  that  a  waterproof  won't  do  for  climbing,  and  she 
hands  that  over  ;  and  presently  she  even  empties  her 
pocket,  and  the  guide  trudges  away  with  it  all.  Then 
she  is  surprised  to  find  what  a  difference  it  does  Tiake, 
and  understands  why  her  friend,  who  knew  the  guide's 
ways  better  and  gave  up  every  single  thing  to  him  at 
first,  is  getting  along  so  cool  and  fresh  and  elastically. 
But  mark  that  the  weight  of  a  burden  is  seldom  realized 
till  we  really  are  going  uphill  and  in  a  fair  way  to  make 
progress.  Indeed,  this  very  sensitiveness  to  weight  is  a 
quick  test  of  increased  gradient.  We  think  nothing 
about  it  as  long  as  we  are  walking  on  a  level  or  slightly 
downhill  ;  but  as  soon  as  we  begin  the  real  ascent  the 
pull  of  the  little  burdens  is  felt  at  once,  and  the  assist- 
ance, which  before  we  did  not  crave,  becomes  very  wel- 
come. It  is  then  that  we  feel  we  must  "lay  aside  every 
weight." 

3.  One  may  almost  certainly  distinguish  between  a 
tyro  and  an  old  hand  by  watching  for  a  few  minutes  the 
style  of  march.  A  novice  will  walk  at  an  irregular  pace 
according  to  the  irregularities  of  the  ground,  making 
little  "  spurts "  when  she  comes  to  an  easy  bit,  and 
either  putting  on  steam  or  lagging  behind  for  extra  steep 
ones  ;  stopping  to  gather  flowers  and  poke  at  curious 
boulders  ;  taking  long .  or  short  steps  according  to  cir- 
cumstances, and  never  thinking  of  such  a  thing  as  notic- 
ing, much  less  imitating,  the  steady  rhythm  of  the  guide's 
walk.  Probably  she  expresses  her  astonishment  at  his 
unexpectedly  slow  pace,  and  would  prefer  getting  on  a 
little  faster  ;  very  likely  she  dashes  ahead  or  aside,  and 
presently  has  to  be  recalled  to  the  track,  which  is  not 
so  easy  to  keep  as  she  supposed. 


258  SWISS  LETTERS. 

One  with  more  experience  is  quite  content  to  take 
the  guide's  pace,  knowing  certainly  that  it  pays  in  the 
long  run,  and  saves  an  enormous  amount  of  fatigue,  and 
therefore  of  time  also.  Very  short  steps,  slowly,  silently, 
and  steadily  placed,  but  as  regular  as  martial  music, 
never  varying  in  beat,  never  broken  by  alternation  of 
strides  and  pauses — this  is  the  guide's  example  for  up- 
hill work ;  and  yet  it  is  what  one  never  believes  in  till 
one  has  learnt  by  experience  that  one  gets  through  twice 
as  much  by  it. 

4.  It  is  wonderful  what  a  saving  of  fatigue  it  is  if 
from  the  very  beginning  one  obeys  the  guide  implicitly 
and  follows  him  exactly.  You  spy  such  a  handy  "  short 
cut,"  you  can  see  so  precisely  where  you  can  join  the 
path  again,  it  will  save  you  such  a  provoking  long 
round,  you  can't  think  why  the  guide  does  not  choose  it ! 
So  away  you  go,  exulting  in  your  cleverness,  straight  up- 
hill, instead  of  that  tiresome  zigzag. 

But  it  is  rather  steeper  than  you  thought,  and  you  get 
just  a  little  out  of  breath  ;  and  you  find  an  awkward 
little  perpendicular  rock  right  in  the  way,  and  you  must 
go  round  it ;  and  then  you  get  into  rhododendron 
bushes,  which  are  thicker  than  you  thought,  and  you 
get  very  wet ;  and  then  you  see  your  companions  reach- 
ing the  point  you  are  making  for,  and  you  scramble  and 
hurry.  And  by  the  time  you  have  done  with  your  short 
cut  you  find  you  have  not  only  gained  no  time,  but  that 
the  few  minutes  away  from  the  guide  have  heated  you 
and  taken  more  out  of  you  than  an  hour's  steady  fol- 
lowing. Later  in  the  day  you  recollect  your  short  cuts 
of  the  morning,  and  wish  you  had  economised  your 
breath. 


OUR  SWISS  GUIDE.  259 

5.  The  full  value  of  exact  following  is  not  learned  in 
the  valleys  or  pastures.  It  is  on  the  "  high  places  "  and 
on  the  unsullied  snowfields  that  one  discovers  this. 

It  is  when  we  are  high  away  above  the  green  slopes, 
seeing  no  track  but  our  guide's  own  footsteps,  that  we 
learn  its  safety.  He  set  his  foot  on  that  stone  :  there 
you  must  set  yours,  for  the  next  is  loose  and  would  be- 
tray you  ;  he  planted  his  alpenstock  on  that  inch  of 
rock  :  there  you  must  plant  yours,  for  an  inch  either 
way  would  give  no  firm  hold  ;  he  climbed  by  that  jut 
of  rock  :  so  must  you,  for  the  other  would  be  too  hard 
a  step  ;  he  sprang  but  half  way  over  that  torrent,  and 
you  must  do  the  same  at  cost  of  wetting  your  feet,  for 
he  knew  that  the  slab  of  rock  that  you  could  have 
reached  at  one  bound  was  treacherously  slippery  and 
dangerous. 

It  is  here  also  that  we  get  into  the  way  of  instant  and 
unquestioning  compliance  with  every  word  our  guide 
utters.  I  was  struck  with  the  remark  of  a  Swiss  Alpine 
Clubbist  in  a  description  of  his  ascent  of  the  Todi. 
His  guide  suddenly  shouted  to  him,  "  Turn  sharp  to  the 
right ! "  He  saw  no  reason  whatever  for  this,  but 
obeyed  instantly.  The  next  moment  an  immense  block 
of  stone  fell  upon  the  spot  where  he  would  have  been 
had  he  hesitated  an  instant  or  even  looked  round  to 
satisfy  himself.  The  quick  and  practised  eye  of  the 
guide  saw  the  trembling  of  the  loosened  mass  which  the 
traveller  could  not  see.  A  query  would  have  been  fatal. 
He  added,  "  In  these  high  places  one  learns  to  obey 
one's  guide  without  stopping  to  ask  'Why  ?  ' ' 

But  when  the  snow  slopes,  so  cool  and  pure  and  beau- 
tiful, are  reached,  another  phase  of  following  is  learnt. 


26o  5  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

There  is  not  the  excitement  and  effort  of  the  rock  climb- 
ing, and  at  first  it  seems  very  quiet  and  easy  work,  with 
a  special  exhilaration  of  its  own,  making  one  feel  as  if 
one  had  started  quite  fresh,  all  the  rest  of  the  journey 
counting  for  nothing.  Once  we  set  out  on  such  a  slope, 
tracking  after  our  guide  in  a  general  sort  of  way,  rather 
interested  in  making  our  own  footprints,  and  hardly  dis- 
tinguishing his  from  those  of  our  companions.  If  we 
turned  to  look  back,  it  was  surprising  what  a  number  of 
unconscious  little  curves  our  feet  had  made.  But  the 
snow  was  rather  soft,  and  we  soon  found  it  much  harder 
work  than  we  expected.  One  of  us  was  walking,  as  she 
always  did,  close  behind  the  guide,  because  she  was  not 
quite  so  strong  as  the  rest,  and  was  therefore  under  his 
especial  care.  Suddenly  she  called  out,  "Oh,  do  set 
your  feet  exactly  in  the  guide's  footsteps,  you  can't  think 
how  much  easier  it  is !  "  So  we  tried  it,  and  certainly 
should  no::  have  believed  what  a  difference  it  would 
make.  All  the  difficulty  and  effort  seemed  gone ;  the 
fatiguing  sinking  and  laborious  lifting  of  our  feet  were 
needless  ;  we  set  them  now  exactly  where  the  guide's 
great  foot  had  trodden,  keeping  his  order  of  right  and 
left,  and  all  was  easy,  a  hundred  steps  less  toil  than 
twenty  before.  But,  to  have  the  full  benefit  of  this,  one 
needed  to  keep  also  very  near  to  the  guide,  for  the  last 
comers  trod  rather  in  their  companions'  footmarks,  and 
were  often  misled  by  some  false  or  uncertain  treading 
of  these,  which  marred  the  perfectness  of  the  original 
steps. 

6.  Thorough  knowledge  of  the  guide's  language  adds 
both  to  the  enjoyment  and  safety  of  our  following.  He 
has  much  to  tell  us  by  the  way,  and  is  always  ready  to 


OUR  SWISS  GUIDE.  261 

answer  questions  and  give  information.  One  who  does 
not  easily  understand  loses  a  great  deal.  A  companion 
may  be  very  vfilling  to  translate,  but  may  do  so  incor- 
rectly, and  in  any  case  the  freshness  and  point  of  many 
a  remark  is  lost ;  while  it  often  happens  that  the  usual 
interpreter  of  a  party  is  not  near  enough  for  appeal  or 
too  tired  to  keep  up  the  interchange.  In  sudden  emer- 
gencies too  it  may  be  really  important  that  each  should 
personally  understand,  and  thus  be  able  instantly  to 
obey,  the  guide's  directions. 

Moreover,  it  is  very  desirable  not  only  thus  to  "  know 
his  voice,"  but  to  be  able  to  speak  to  him  for  one's  self. 
Once  one  of  us  slipped  in  a  rather  awkward  place.  She 
called  out,  "  Stop  a  moment !  "  but  the  guide  in  advance 
knew  no  English,  and  therefore  did  not  heed  her,  and 
but  for  the  quick  call  in  German  of  another  who  saw 
the  slip,  she  might  have  been  frightened  and  hurt. 

7.  When  we  come  to  really  difficult  places,  or  glaciers 
with  hidden  crevasses,  we  find  the  use  of  the  coil  of 
rope.  This  is  fastened  first  round  the  guide  himself 
and  then  round  the  rest  of  the  party,  allowing  a  length  of 
eight  or  ten  feet  between  each.  Once  I  questioned  the 
strength  of  the  rope,  upon  which  the  guide  untwisted  it 
a  little,  and  showed  me  a  scarlet  thread  hidden  among 
the  strands.  He  told  me  that  this  was  the  mark  that 
it  was  a  real  Alpine  Club  rope,  manufactured  expressly 
for  the  purpose,  and  to  be  depended  upon  in  a  matter  of 
life  and  death.  It  is  remarkable  that  this  typical  "  line 
of  scarlet  thread "  should  have  been  selected  as  the 
guarantee  of  safety. 

Once  roped  thus,  you  have  a  sense  of  security  in  pass- 
ing what  would  otherwise  be  very  dangerous  places, 


262  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

especially  concealed  crevasses.  And  not  only  a  sense 
but  a  reality  of  security.  You  feel  the  snow  yield  be- 
neath your  feet,  you  sink  in,  and  you  have  neither  hand 
nor  foothold  ;  you  get  perhaps  a  glimpse  of  a  fathom- 
less blue  depth  below  you.  If  you  struggle  you  only 
break  away  the  snow  and  enlarge  the  cavity.  But  you 
are  in  no  real  danger,  and  if  you  have  confidence  in 
your  guide  and  the  rope,  you  wait  quietly,  perhaps  even 
smilingly,  till  you  are  hauled  out  of  the  hole,  and  landed 
on  firm  snow  again.  Why  ?  Because  you  are  firmly 
knotted  to  your  guide,  and  also  to  all  the  rest  of  your 
party.  You  had  not  even  time  to  call  out  ere  he  felt 
the  sudden  strain  upon  the  rope,  and  instantly  turned 
to  help  you,  drawing  you  easily  up  to  his  side  without 
hurt.  Your  friends  felt  the  shock  too,  but  they  could 
not  do  much  to  help,  only  they  watched  and  admired  the 
guide,  and  found  their  own  fears  (if  they  had  any)  les- 
sened, and  their  confidence  in  him  and  his  rope  greatly 
increased. 

But  it  is  the  guide  himself  who  bears  the 'brunt  of 
these  difficulties.  He  goes  first,  carefully  sounding  the 
snow,  avoiding  many  a  crevasse  which  we  should  never 
have  suspected,  and  sometimes  getting  a  fall  which 
would  have  been  ours  but  for  his  trying  the  way  for  us. 
If  we  really  follow  his  steps  exactly  and  patiently,  the 
probability  is  that  we  never  go  in  at  all,  for  the  snow  that 
has  borne  his  weight  never  gives  way  under  ours.  But  if 
we  swerve  even  a  few  inches  from  his  footmarks,  we  may 
soon  find  ourselves  in  the  predicament  described  above. 

8.  Sometimes  we  come  to  a  slope  of  frozen  snow  so 
steep  that  it  looks  absolutely  impossible  to  climb  it. 
And  so  it  would  be,  but  for  our  guide.  Our  impossibil- 


OUR  SWISS  GUIDE.  263 

ities  only  develop  his  resources.  Now  he  unshoulders 
his  ice-axe  and  with  wonderful  rapidity  cuts  steps  by 
which  we  ascend  even  more  easily  than  hitherto.  And 
we' notice  that  these  extra-difficult  slopes  are  a  positive 
advantage  to  us,  because  while  he  has  all  the  hard  work 
we  have  time  to  take  breath.  When  the  steep  bit  is 
passed,  we  have  gained  greatly  in  height,  and  yet  we  feel 
quite  freshened  for  further  ascent  instead  of  fatigued. 

9.  The  guide  decides  your  rest  as  well  as  your  prog- 
ress, if  you  are  wise  enough  to  let  him.  He  very  soon 
measures  your  powers,  and  not  only  knows  precisely 
when  a  crevasse  is  just  too  wide  for  you  to  leap  without 
help,  or  a  rock  just  too  awkward  for  you  to  climb,  but 
he  also  seems  to  know  precisely  when  you  had  better 
make  longer  or  shorter  halts.  Sometimes  you  are  unwil- 
ling to  rest  when  he  proposes  it,  and  perhaps  he  lets  you 
have  your  own  way  and  go  on,  and  then  you  are  quite 
certain  to  be  sorry  for  it.  But  more  often  he  insists,  and 
then  you  always  find  he  was  right,  and  that  he  had 
timed  the  halt  better  than  you  would  have  done.  Then, 
without  waiting  to  be  asked,  he  unfastens  your  wraps, 
contrives  a  seat  upon  the  snow,  and  folds  a  shawl  round 
you.  It  is  no  use  saying  you  do  not  feel  cold,  he  is  re- 
sponsible for  you,  and  knows  what  is  safe,  and  will 
not  let  you  risk  getting  chilled  by  the  subtle  glacier 
wind.  Then  he  gives  you  the  provision  he  has  carried 
for  you,  meat,  and  bread,  and  wine,  and  leaves  no  little 
stone  unturned  towards  making  your  halt  as  refreshing 
and  pleasant  as  possible.  There  is  no  need  for  you  to 
L>e  calculating  time,  and  fidgeting  about  going  on  ;  he 
knows  how  much  is  yet  before  you,  and  he  will  tell  you 
when  it  is  time  to  be  moving  again. 


264  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

10.  I  mentioned  that  the   weakest  of  our  party  was 
specially  cared  for.     Sometimes  while  the  others  had 
merely  general  orders,  she  had  his  strong  arm,  and  thus 
escaped  the  slips  which  the  more  independent  ones  now 
and  then  made.     Weakness  or  ailments  proved  his  pa- 
tience and  care.     On  one  occasion  the  "  mountain  sick- 
ness," which  sometimes  befalls  travellers  on  great  heights, 
suddenly  attacked  one  not  accustomed  to  fail  in  strength, 
and  then  nothing  could  exceed  Joseph's  kindness  and 
attention.     He  made  a  wonderfully  comfortable  couch 
on  the  snow,  told   us  what  was  the  matter,  administered 
advice  and  wine,  and  waited  patiently  and  sympatheti- 
cally till  his  patient,  completely  prostrate  for  an  hour, 
felt  able  to  stand.     Then  in  a  firm  decided  tone  he  said, 
"/^  ubernehme  die  Kranke!"  (/undertake  the  sick 
one  !)  and  leaving  the  other  guides  to  attend  to  all  else, 
his  powerful  arm  helped  "  die  Kranke  "  down  to  a  level 
where  the  less  rarified  air  soon  set  all  to  rights. 

11.  It  is  understood  that  a  true  Swiss  guide  is  literally 
"  faithful  unto  death,"  that  he  does  not  hesitate  to  risk 
his  own  life  for  the  sake  of  his  charge,  and  that  instances 
are  known  in  which  it  has  not  only  been  risked,  but  actu- 
ally sacrificed.     We  have  never  been  in  a  position  to 
prove  this,  but  the  undoubted  fact  completes  the  illus- 
tration.    Yet  this  completion  only  shows  the  imperfec- 
tion.    For  that  poor  faithful  guide  may  perish  with  the 
traveller,  and  not  instead  of  him  ;  the  sacrifice  may  be 
all  in  vain  where  the  power  and  the  will  are  not  com- 
mensurate.    In  such  illustrations  we  may  learn  as  much 
by  the  contrasts  as  by  the  similarities  ;  and  how  often, 
as  in   this  instance,  does  the  very  failure  of  an  earthly 
type  bring  out  the  glory  and  perfection  of  the  Antitype. 


OUR  SWISS  GUIDE.  265 

Our  glorious  Guide,  who  has  called  us  to  the  journey, 
and  whose  provision  for  it  is  "without  money  and  with- 
out price,"  cannot  fail  in  His  undertaking.  All  who  are 
in  His  covenant  hands  are  "  kept  by  the  power  of  God 
through  faith  unto  salvation,"  and  "  shall  never  perish." 
What  He  hath  begun  He  will  perform,  for  He  "  is  able 
to  keep  you  from  falling,  and  to  present  you  faultless  be- 
fore the  presence  of  His  glory  with  exceeding  joy."  He 
is  not  merely  willing  to  lay  down  His  life,  but  He  hath 
laid  it  down  for  us,  and  now  death  cannot  touch  our 
Leader  any  more  ;  He  hath  "  the  power  of  an  endless 
life,"  and  we  are  united  to  that  life  by  the  strong  cords 
of  His  eternal  purpose  and  His  everlasting  love,  which 
no  friction  can  weaken  and  no  stroke  can  sever.  How- 
ever tremendous  the  gulf  beneath  us,  if  thus  united  to 
Him,  He  will  lead  us  on  till  our  feet,  no  longer  weary, 
stand  far  above  the  clouds  upon  the  mountain  of  our 
God,  never  to  repass  the  toils  and  dangers  of  the  ascent, 
never  to  return  to  the  valley,  never  to  part  from  the 
strong  and  loving  Guide  who  has  led  us  to  such  a 
Hitherto  of  rest  and  wonder,  and  to  such  a  Henceforth 
of  joy  and  praise. 


XII. 
A    SONG    IN    THE    NIGHT. 

WRITTEN  IN  SEVERE   PAIN,  SUNDAY  AFTERNOON,  OCTOBER  8th, 

1876,   AT  THE   PENSION  WENGEN,   ALPS. 

I  TAKE  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 

From  Thine  own  hand  ; 
The  strength  to  bear  it  bravely 

Thou  wilt  command. 

I  am  too  weak  for  effort, 

So  let  me  rest, 
In  hush  of  sweet  submission, 

On  Thine  own  breast. 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 

As  proof  indeed 
That  Thou  art  watching  closely 

My  truest  need  ; 

That  Thou  my  good  Physician 

Art  watching  still  ; 
That  all  Thine  own  good  pleasure 

Thou  wilt  fulfil. 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus  ; 

What  Thou  dost  choose 
The  soul  that  really  loves  Thee 

Will  not  refuse. 
(266) 


A  SOKG  IN  THE  NIGHT.  267 

It  is  not  for  the  first  time 

I  trust  to-day ; 
For  Thee  my  heart  has  never 

A  trustless  "  Nay"  ! 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus  ; 

But  what  beside  ? 
'Tis  no  unmingled  portion 

Thou  dost  provide. 

In  every  hour  of  faintness 

My  cup  runs  o'er 
With  faithfulness  and  mercy, 

And  love's  sweet  store. 

I  take  this  pain,  Lord  Jesus, 

As  Thine  own  gift ; 
And 'true  though  tremulous  praises 

I  now  uplift. 

I  am  too  weak  to  sing  them, 

But  Thou  dost  hear 
The  whisper  from  the  pillow, — 

Thou  art  so  near  ! 

'Tis  Thy  dear  hand,  O  Saviour,] 

That  presseth  sore, 
The  hand  that  bears  the  nail-prints 

For  evermore. 

And  now  beneath  its  shadow, 

Hidden  by  Thee, 
The  pressure  only  tells  me 

Thou  lovest  me ! 


XIII. 
MEMORANDA  OF 

A   SWISS   TOUR  WITH    F.  R.  H. 

BY  HER  SISTER  M.    V.  G.  ff. 


IT  was  on  a  calm  evening  in  the  beginning  of  July, 
1876,  that  we  crossed  by  steamer  from  Newhaven  to 
Dieppe.  Some  Mildmay  deaconesses  were  on  board, 
and  others,  who  were  leaving  their  work  for  needful  rest 
and  change.  Frances  said  :  "  Of  course  we  shall  have  a 
delightful  passage !  I  find  these  dear  deconesses  have 
been  praying  for  it,  and  so  have  the  dear  boys  at  New- 
port." And  so  it  was,  and  we  landed  at  Dieppe  before 
the  usual  time. 

Frances  walked  with  roe  along  the  quaint  old  quays, 
and  it  was  curious  to  see  one  of  my  own  names,  that  of 
my  godmother,  "Vernon,"  on  an  ancient  stone  build- 
ing. 

No  need  to  describe  the  journey  through  Normandy 
and  Paris  to  Lausanne,  where  we  slept  at  the  Falcon 
Hotel. 

(268) 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  269 

July  13. — By  steamer  on  the  lake  of  Geneva  to  Mon- 
treux,  where  Frances  landed  and  took  a  mule  to  "  Les 
Avants,"  to  call  on  Miss  E.  J.  Whately.  I  went  on  to 
the  castle  of  Chillon  to  wait  for  Frances,  and  after  ex- 
ploring it  I  sat  down  by  the  lake.  A  poor  Italian 
woman  came  with  clothes  to  wash.  She  told  me  her 
husband  was  dead,  and  so  she  was  alone,  "  alone  always," 
and  far  from  her  own  country.  So  I  spoke  of  the  one 
Friend  and  Saviour,  ever  near,  ever  loving,  and  who 
said,  "I  will  never,  never  leave  thee."  She  readily 
learnt  a  text,  and  then  went  on  with  her  work.  It  was 
very  hot.  I  took  off  my  hat  and  rested  on  a  bank  ; 
presently  two  young  women  came  running  to  see  what 
was  the  matter :  "  O  madame,  nous  croyions  que  vous 
etiez  morte !  vous  vous  reposiez  si  tranquillement."  I 
thanked  them,  and  explained  I  was  only  tired  and 
the  washerwoman  was  within  call.  They  sat  down,  and 
I  gave  them  some  biscuits,  and  they  told  me  about  their 
home  and  their  fruit  gatherings.  Then  I  drew  a  little 
parable  from  their  running  so  kindly  to  help  a  stranger ; 
how  the  Good  Shepherd,  Jesus,  saw  us  really  perishing  ; 
how  He  pitied  us,  and  came  down  close  to  us  in  our 
souls'  sleep.  That  He  would  not  leave  us  lying  there, 
but  would  bring  us  to  His  own  safe  fold,  if  we  were  only 
willing  to  "  follow  Him."  Let  me  not  forget  to  pray  for 
this  kind  Pauline  and  Adelaide. 

Frances  returned  to  me  beaming ;  saying,  "  Miss 
Whately  is  all  and  more  than  I  expected.  Only  it  was 
tantalizing  to  meet  her,  and  yet  see  so  little  of  her  ;  we 
only  had  time  to  find  out  how  much  there  was  to  talk 
about.  Anyhow  she  is  no  longer  one  of  my  unknown 
specials !  " 


270  S WISS  LE  TTERS. 

We  went  on  to  Vernayaz.  It  was  late,  but  I  went 
through  the  Gorge  du  Trient.  Strange  crypt-like  aisles 
and  ceaseless  water  music. 

July  14. — Frances  awoke  me  at  four  A.M.,  and  we 
were  ready  before  our  guide  and  mule ;  and  then 
Frances  gave  me  my  first  lesson  in  Swiss  slow  paces,  so 
unlike  the  Havergal  speed. 

The  vivid  colouring  of  the  flowers  was  new  to  me ; 
they  seem  always  in  Sunday  dress  here,  bright  and  fresh. 
Halting  at  the  Pension  du  Mont  Blanc  in  the  village  of 
Finshauts,  Frances  was  charmed  with  the  utter  quiet  of 
the  valley,  and  decided  to  stay  a  week.  Valerie  Longfat 
proved  a  most  attentive  waitress.  We  began  our  Swiss 
holiday  by  very  early  "  rising  and  setting,"  as  Frances 
wished  me  to  get  into  good  training  before  real  expedi' 
tions  came  on.  Our  usual  morning  walk  brought  us  in 
time  to  see  the  sunrise  on  Mont  Blanc.  Frances'  favour- 
ite evening  stroll  was  to  a  fairy  glen  of  flowers  and  ferns, 
and  few  could  arrange  its  spoils  with  so  much  taste. 
The  little  chalets  around  looked  tempting  to  me,  and  one 
evening's  visit  led  to  many  more.  Two  very  aged 
women  were  sitting  in  their  shady  porch  ;  one  of  them 
said  she  was  "  la  vieillarde  de  Finshauts,"  and  able  to 
walk  about  with  her  "bon  baton."  I  answered  :  "  One 
good  stick  is  enough,  a  dozen  would  only  throw  you 
down  ;  now  just  as  you  lean  on  one  stick,  so  do  lean  upon 
the  one  Saviour,  the  mighty  One,  the  strong  One.  Some 
lean  on  a  dozen  angels  and  saints  and  mediators,  but  the 
Bible  says,  '  There  is  one  God  and  one  Mediator.' " 
She  seemed  to  catch  my  meaning,  and  presently  several 
of  her  neighbours  joined  us  ;  so  I  proposed  they  should 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  271 

bring  their  chairs,  and  I  read  a  chapter.     These  little 
open  air  services  are  very  pleasant. 

Sunday,  July  16. — A  brilliant  cloudless  day.  Many 
peasants  came  by,  going  to  early  mass.  I  sat  down  on 
some  logs  of  wood,  and  made  a  seat  for  any  one  who 
would  like  to  rest.  All  returned  my  salutations,  one  and 
another  chatting  awhile,  and  taking  tracts.  A  woman 
asked  me  why  I  did  not  go  with  them  to  mass.  'I  told  her 
I  could  not  join  in  worshipping  the  host ;  that  Jesus 
Christ  ascended  into  heaven  ;  that  His  glorified  body 
was  at  the  right  hand  of  God  ;  that  Stephen  saw  Him 
there  ;  so  His  body  could  not  be  in  heaven  and  in  a 
wafer  too.  "  But,"  she  said,  "  I  think  you  love  Him." 
"Ah,  yes !  and  in  England  I  do  take  bread  and  wine  in 
remembrance  of  His  great  love  to  me."  She  told  me 
her  name  was  Julie  Zacharie,  the  familiar  name  of 
friends  in  Worcestershire ;  and  it  seems  her  ancestors 
were  English  ! 

After  mass  she  called  and  invited  me  to  see  her  home, 
a  curious  old  chalet :  thick  stone  walls,  and  the  win* 
dows  so  narrow  that  I  could  only  dimly  see  the  variety 
of  images  and  pictures.  Julie  showed  me  many  of  her 
old  books.  Before  leaving  I  asked  if  I  should  kneel 
down  and  pray  for  God's  blessing,  that  He  would  teach 
both  of  us. 

"  No,  no,  dear  lady ;  I  am  just  come  from  mass  ;  I 
have  taken  Jesus  there.  Dear  lady,  you  must  believe 
our  mass  is  a  miracle  ;  God  can  give  our  priest  power 
to  change  the  sign  into  the  real  body  of  Jesus." 

"  Show  me  in  your  Bible  where  God  promises  to  do 
this." 


272  SWISS  LET  TEX  S. 

"  Oh,  it  is  in  our  '  Instructions ' !  Madame,  do  you 
know  them  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  was  reading  them  to-day.  The  Epistles, 
Gospels,  and  Psalms  are  GodVword,  but  not  the  '  In- 
structions.' Give  me  your  book,  and  we  will  rea-d  ex- 
actly what  the  Lord  Jesus  said.  Luke  xxii.  19  :  '  Do 
this  in  remembrance  of  Me.'  What  did  they  then  do? 
Ate  bread,  drank  wine.  The  apostles  could  not  then 
have  eaten  the  Lord's  body,  for  He  was  sitting  alive  by 
them  ;  hence,  as  it  was  a  sign,  a  memorial  then,  it  must 
be  the  same  now.  Besides,  whatever  goes  in  my  mouth 
never  reaches  my  spirit,  my  affections  ;  so,  while  taking 
bread,  the  outward  sign,  in  my  mouth,  in  my  heart  I 
feed  on  Him  by  faith  with  thanksgiving." 

Julie  listened,  and  said  :  "  Well,  we  do  both  love  Him  ; 
will  madame  come  with  me  this  evening  to  my  chakt 
by  the  river  ?  I  have  cows  there,  and  madame  shall 
take  cream." 

I  was  resting  upstairs  in  the  evening,  when  a  knock 
came  at  my  door,  and  Julie  appeared  in  my  bedroom. 
We  had  a  pleasant  talk,  and  then  she  willingly  knelt 
down  with  me.  May  the  Spirit  shine  through  all  en- 
tangling webs ! 

Every  day  we  found  fresh  walks,  and  the  alpenrose 
blossomed  where  the  snow  was  yet  lingering.  I  tried 
crossing  a  snow  slope,  but  gave  it  up,  and  watched 
Frances'  agile  steps,  fearless  and  firm  ;  now  I  can  un- 
derstand her  glissades ! 

July  23. — Early  this  Sunday  morning  Frances  wrote 
"Seulement  pour  Toi,"  and  as  our  hostess  and  Valerie 
had  often  listened  with  pleasure  to  Frances'  singing,  we 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  273 

told  them  they  might  invite  any  neighbours  to  assemble 
at  three  o'clock,  for  singing  and  Bible  reading.  But  by 
two  o'clock  arrivals  began,  charming  maidens  and  all 
the  old  peasants  we  had  chatted  with  in  the  week.  I 
would  not  disturb  Frances,  so  produced  pens  and  paper 
and  the  new  French  hymn  for  any  who  would  like  to 
copy  it  ;  this  answered  well.  For  the  old  women  I  pro- 
posed making  some  tea,  but  Valerie  assured  me  no  one 
ever  cared  for  it !  Lemonade  seemed  a  more  welcome 
idea,  and  was  duly  appreciated.  There  was  one  sprightly 
girl,  Katrine,  whose  mischievous  laughter  betrayed  her 
dislike  to  our  plans.  But  even  Katrine  was  interested 
when  I  produced  the  photographs  of  my  Indian  orphans 
in  the  Church  Missionary  school  at  Agurparah.  The 
histories  of  little  Daisy,  Maria,  and  Monie  (now  called 
Frances,  after  Frances  Ridley  Havergal),  and  the  nov- 
elty of  some  missionary  information,  awakened  deep  in- 
terest. 

At  three  o'clock  the  room  was  full.  Frances  began 
by  giving  a  free  translation  of  her  hymn,  "  Golden 
Harps,"  and  singing  it.  Then  came  "Seulement  pour 
Toi";*  with  Frances'  lively  encouragement,  this  was 
soon  sung  en  masse.  Frances  read,  in  French,  verses 
from  the  third,  fourth,  and  fifth  chapters  of  Romans, 
giving  a  few  sweet  linkings  of  the  same,  and  then  asked 
me  to  speak  to  them.  I  found  it  quite  easy  to  address 
in  French,  and  many  thanked  me  afterwards. 

No  one  seemed  willing  to  kneel  for  the  concluding 


*  We  give  the  words  and  music  ;   as  published  by  Messrs. 
Nisbet  &  Co.,  in  leaflet  form.     F.  R.  H.  also  arranged  the  same 
melody  to  "  Precious  Saviour,  may  I  live,"  published  by  Hutch- 
ings  &  Romer. 
18 


reulement  pout  Coi, 

Words  and  Music  by  F.  R.  H. 


*f 


i    i    i    r  f 


i — i — i — 

jzl. .   -*!.:§?: 


^pgEjEgEg^EB= 


Que    je     sois,    O  cher   Sau  -  veur,      Seulement        i      Toi ! 


|         F 


r  f-  r  r  r'  r    ,  r 

.J. .   .  J.  :S    .gt     ^2 


— I — 
Soit    1'amour      de   tout  mon    cosur        Seulement     pour    Toi. 


r<Q.__J — ^5 L 
r  -* 
_  ^  ^.-  A   i   i        '  i  '  i  i  J 

. p  rr<s|^'g'^r-^=rnr$gq^ri|='s'='g_[-  ^      [ 

Je     re  -  viens         a    mon    Pfere,        Seulement      par      Toi, 


II  II,,  i    ' 

I      |      i  jJ-Jlja,     j-z.  yd-     I  _,.- 


I      i 


Ma  con-fiance    en  -  ti  -  fere    Veut  etre  en  Toi,  Suulement  en  Toi. 


Le  p6ch6,  Tu  1'as  portfi 

Seul,  seul  pour  tnoi  ; 
Et  Ton  sang  Tu  1'as  vers6 

Seul,  seul  pour  moi. 
Toute  gloire,  toute  joie 

Sera  pour  Toi ; 
Et  'esperance  et  la  foi 

Seront  en  Toi, 
Seulement  en  Toi. 

Aujourd'hui,  mon  cher  Seigneur, 

Acceptes-moi ! 
To  seul  es  mon  grand  Sauveur, 

Toi  seul  mon  Roi. 
Tous  mes  moments,  tous  mes  jours 

Seront  pour  Toi ! 
J6sus,  garde-moi  toujours 

Seulement  pour  Toi, 
Seulement  pour  Toi. 

Que  je  chante,  et  que  je  pleure, 

Seulement  pour  Toi ! 
Que  je  vive  et  que  je  meure 

Seulement  pour  Toi  ! 
Jesus,  qui  m'as  tant  aim6 

Mourant  pour  moi, 
Toute  mon  eternite 

Sera  pour  Toi, 

Settlement  pour  Toi ! 

July  23,  1876. 


(275) 


S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 


prayer.  I  would  not  begin  while  all  were  sitting,  so 
Valerie's  father  set  the  example,  vigorously  saying, 
"  Mettez-vous  tous  k  genoux."  A  few  stayed  to  talk  to  us 
afterwards. 

We  welcomed  our  tea,  though  the  old  women  did  not. 
Frances  said  she  wished  she  had  a  French  Bible  that 
she  might  put  references  to  "  Seulement  pour  Toi."  M.\ 
"  Then  I  will  go  and  ask  monsieur  the  curd  to  lend  us 
one,  and  certainly  I  shall  give  him  your  hymn."  F.  : 
"Whatever  will  you  think  of  next!  Marie,  do  you 
mean  it?"  M.  :  "I  do;  besides  the  cure  has  been  on 
my  mind  all  the  week."  F.  (laughing)  :  "  Then  ask 
him  to  correct  my  hymn." 

Away  I  went  to  the  priest's  house,  and  who  should 
open  the  door  but  the  mischievous  Katrine,  evidently 
amused  to  see  me  !  Giving  my  compliments  to  the  cure 
and  a  request  for  the  loan  of  a  Bible,  he  returned  with 
Katrine,  inviting  me  to  his  study.  He  brought  the 
Bible  in  four  large  volumes,  inquiring  which  I  required. 
I  told  him  we  had  only  French  Testaments  with  us,  and 
that  my  sister  wished  to  put  references  to  a  hymn  she 
had  written  that  morning  ;  possibly  he  would  kindly  cor- 
rect it.  After  reading  "Seulement  pour  Toi,"  he  in- 
quired if  the  writer  was  French,  as  only  one  idiom  was 
incorrect.  He  was  extremely  pleasant,  and  I  told  him 
of  our  little  service,  adding  a  few  words  on  the  precious- 
ness  of  Christ  and  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Then  he  called 
Katrine  and  bade  her  carry  the  volumes  home  for  me. 

The  next  morning  we  walked  to  Argentiere.  While 
we  were  resting  under  a  tree,  a  lady,  whom  I  had  previ- 
ously seen  at  our  pension,  and  who  wished  to  hear  Fran- 
ces sing,  came  by  on  her  mule.  She  dismounted  and 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  277 

joined  us,  and  at  my  request  Frances  sang  to  her,  thus 
ministering  to  one  who  seemed  lonely  and  weary.  I 
should  like  to  have  known  the  name  of  this  solitary 
traveller.  We  stayed  some  days  at  Argentiere  ;  Mont 
Blanc  was  just  opposite  our  windows.  What  variety  of 
rose  and  golden  crowns  descend  on  that  kingly  mount- 
ain ! 

July  31. — Frances  walked  with  me  part  of  the  way  to 
La  Flegere  ;  she  returned  to  Argentiere.  No  need  for 
a  guide,  she  gives  me  such  clear  directions.  Instead  of 
sunset  on  Mont  Blanc,  sheet  lightning  kept  up  illumina- 
tion of  its  height,  while  the  aiguilles  flashed  as  if  cased 
in  steel  armour.  A  young  lady  from  Denmark  walked 
with  me  up  and  down  the  terrace.  I  told  her  how  we 
all  loved  our  beautiful  Princess  of  Wales.  She  was  in- 
terested to  hear  of  the  Bible,  given  her  by  the  maidens 
of  England,  and  that  led  to  her  accepting  one  from  me. 
Her  loyalty  was  as  lively  as  mine. 

The  next  morning  was  dense  mist,  but  I  went  on  to 
the  Breven  by  breakfast  time.  Turning  over  the  tour- 
ists' book  I  found  my  sister's  entry,  Aug.  2,  1871  :  "  F. 
R.  Havergal  and  Elizabeth  Clay.  Felt  exceedingly  tri- 
umphant over  all  the  tourists  at  Chamouni,  and  especi- 
ally over  those  who  had  been  here  in  the  heat  of  the 
day.  For  from  seven  to  eight  P.M.,  while  they  were 
in  the  dusk  of  the  valley,  and  probably  at  table  d'hote 
by  candlelight,  we  were  enjoying  a  glory  of  gold  and 
rose  upon  the  whole  chain  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  watching 
it  die  into  that  strange,  pale,  holy  afterlight,  which  is 
almost  more  thrillingly  beautiful  than  any  more  glowing 
effect.  Furthermore  at  4.30  A.M.  we  saw  the  first  touch 
of  rose-fire  on  the  crown  of  the  monarch." 


278  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

It  was  useless  to  wait  in  the  clouds,  so  I  went  down 
to  Chamouni ;  suddenly,  through  the  pine  woods,  Mont 
Blanc  unveiled  in  silver.  I  walked  on  to  Argentiere, 
and  Frances  commended  me  for  pushing  bravely  through 
the  mist,  and  says  I  have  the  bump  of  locality. 

August  3. —  We  left  Argentiere,  walking  part  of  the 
way  with  the  Rev.  J.  H.  and  Mrs.  Rogers,  to  the  Tete 
Noire,  where  we  lunched.  I  rested,  but  Frances,  as 
usual,  found  ministering  work.  Then  away  to  the  Col 
de  Forclaz,  a  satisfactory  distance !  The  next  morning 
we  walked  to  the  Croix  de  Martigny,  and  then  turned 
up  the  road  towards  St.  Bernard,  and  slept  at  Lembran- 
chier. 

August  5. — By  diligence  to  Orsiere,  interesting  ride; 
all  the  travellers  joined  in  singing  "  Seulement  pour 
Toi,"  and  even  the  driver  tried  to  sing  the  bass,  where- 
on Frances  jumped  up  by  him  ;  I  do  think  she  would 
make  any  one  sing. 

We  reached  the  hospice  of  St.  Bernard  on  Saturday, 
and  were  gracefully  received  by  the  good  Father  Hess. 

Sunday,  August  6. — Clear,  cloudless  sunshine.  Sat 
under  the  rocks  with  Frances,  reading  Exod.  xxxiii.  21, 
22,  of  that  rock  and  that  clift  in  the  rock,  where  the 
glory  "  passed  by,"  connecting  it  with  John  xvii.  24,  the 
glory  which  will  not  pass  away,  but  which  we  shall  be- 
hold forever. 

When  the  chapel  bells  tolled  for  mass,  Frances  said 
that  for  once  she  should  like  to  try  joining  in  the  service. 
I  did  not  go,  having  tried  it,  and  felt  utterly  wretched 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  279 

and  the  clearest  conviction  I  was  grieving  God.  In  half 
an  hour  Frances  returned  distressed  with  the  service, 
and  expressed  her  grief  that  Protestant  tourists  often 
join  in  that  form  which  involves  downright  error  and 
idolatry.  Nor  did  she  find  the  music  soothing  or  ele- 
vating, it  was  "just  aggravating  and  monotonous." 
Just  then  five  St.  Bernard  dogs  came  out ;  they  barked 
at  me,  but  immediately  caressed  Frances  :  instinctive 
discernment !  There  were  many  groups  of  peasants 
scattered  about ;  they  seem  to  make  this  a  picnic  pil- 
grimage, receiving  food  and  lodging.  We  made  sundry 
friends  ;  even  a  large  group  of  card-players  put  their 
cards  away  and  thanked  us  for  civil  warnings.  Leaflets 
and  portions  were  gladly  received.  At  four  P.M.  Frances, 
a  traveller  from  Boston,  and  I  enjoyed  a  service  ir» 
the  very  hush  of  those  rocky  aisles  and  vast  icy  temples 
Frances  chose  Psalm  xxii.  31  and  Psalm  xxiii.,  alsc« 
Zephaniah  iii. 

After  dinner  Frances  sang,  by  request  of  Father  Hess. 
"  Comfort  ye,"  then  "  Seulement  pour  Toi,"  in  which 
many  joined.  Being  asked  to  sing  her  own  music,  she 
gave  "  Whom  having  not  seen  ye  love."*  It  was  evi- 
dently thrilling  to  all,  ami  Signer  Luigi  and  others  ex- 
pressed their  admiration  to  me.  They  didn't  know  how 
Frances  had  prayed  that  her  song  might  be  a  King's 
message. 

August  8. — Walked  back  to  Ors&re. 

gth. — Explored  the  Val  de  Feri.     I  will  detail  an  in- 


*  Shortly  to  be  published,  by  Hatchings  &  Romer. 


2So  SWISS  LETTERS. 

cident  illustrative  of  many  others.  I  always  carry  a 
tiny  kettle  and  tea,  for  our  refreshment.  The  wind 
blew  out  my  pine-cone  fire,  so  we  went  to  a  chalet  for 
boiling  water.  The  little  maiden  put  brown  bread, 
which  required  chopping,  and  goat's  cheese  on  the  table. 
She  had  never  tasted  tea,  and  did  not  seem  to  like  it 
at  all. 

I  asked  Constance*  if  there  was  any  one  ill  in  the 
village. 

"  Yes,  little  Aline  ;  she  used  to  lie  alone  all  day  long, 
till  I  asked  her  father  to  put  the  key  under  a  stone,  that 
I  might  get  in.  Aline  has  no  mother." 

I  followed  Constance  up  some  dark  stairs  into  a  room 
like  a  hay-loft.  A  little  tired  face  looked  up  from  the 
rough  bed  : 

"  Oh,  Marie  !  I  am  so  ill ;  is  father  come  ?  He  went 
away  so  early." 

Alone,  alone,  locked  up  in  that  cold  loft,  some  greasy 
soup  in  a  can,  and  a  hard  crust !  Dear  little  Aline  !  I 
sat  down  by  her  and  fed  her  with  some  jelly  and  bis- 
cuits, and  sent  Constance  for  some  new  milk.  I  took 
the  thin  hot  hand  and  said  in  French  : 

"  Dear  Aline,  there  is  One  who  loves  you  very  much  : 
the  kind,  good  Jesus  ;  do  you  know  Him  ?  " 

Yes,  she  knew  the  name  of  Jesus,  and  that  He  died 
on  the  cross  ;  but  she  did  not  seem  to  know  it  really 
was  for  her,  in  her  stead.  She  seemed  to  drink  in  all 
that  was  said,  and  learnt  this  prayer  :  "  Lord  Jesus,  wash 
me  in  Thy  blood  ;  take  me  in  Thy  arms." 


*  Marie    Constance    Jodant,    in    the   village    of    Isere   pres 
d'Orsiere. 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  281 

I  don't  think  Aline  will  be  hungry  again,  for  it  was 
easy  to  arrange  for  a  supply  of  milk.  And  Victorine, 
the  daughter  of  our  hotel-keeper  at  Orsiere,  promised  to 
go  often  and  take  her  nourishing  food.  Meanwhile 
Frances  had  been  at  work  in  a  chalet ;  I  cannot  recount 
half  she  does ! 

August  10. — Walked  up  to  the  Lac  de  Champe,  and 
the  next  morning  Frances  found  the  way  through  the 
Gorge  du  Durnand  ;  we  always  enjoy  unknown  routes. 
Thence  to  Martigny,  and  by  diligence  to  Champery, 
where  we  remained  till  August  28th. 

At  Champery  the  delightful  ministrations  of  Mr. 
Rogers,  the  chaplain,  new  friendships,  and  Frances'  in- 
cessant ministries,  whether  by  song,  or  conversation, 
or  Bible  reading,  filled  up  every  day.  One  evening,  after 
playing  the  Moonlight  Sonata,  an  aged  German  lady 
assured  me  that  it  quite  recalled  Beethoven's  own  ren- 
dering of  it. 

After  leaving  Champery,  vid  Berne  and  Interlachen, 
we  stayed  at  the  Pension  Schonfels.  The  pressure  of 
letters  seemed  to  follow  Frances  everywhere,  and  I 
remember  how  goodnaturedly  she  corrected  roll  after 
roll  of  poetical  compositions  by  a  stranger,  although 
she  was  suffering  extremely  from  the  effects  of  being 
caught  in  a  thunderstorm  in  an  excursion  from  Cham- 
pery. While  staying  at  the  Pension  Schonfels,  the 
Baroness  von  Cramm  and  Miss  Carmichael  joined  us 
from  Champery.  Poor  Frances  could  not  join  in  any 
excursions,  nor  did  she  attempt  writing  any  circular 
letters,  as  in  former  tours.  She  told  me  that  in  writing 
those  circulars  she  rather  avoided  expressing  either  the 


282  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

spiritual  or  the  poetical  ideas  suggested  ;  so  she  wrote 
"  Holiday  Work,"  and  "  Our  Swiss  Guide,"  as  glimpses 
of  her  practical  work  for  Christ,  and  those  celestial 
revelations  which  Alpine  scenery  constantly  unfolded 
to  her  mind.  It  was  at  this  time,  however,  that  she 
wrote  the  following  sonnet  to  her  friend  the  Baroness 
Helga  von  Cramm  : 

TO   HELGA. 

COME  down,  and  show  the  d'.vellers  far  below 
What  God  is  painting  in  each  mountain  place  ! 
Show  His  fair  colours,  and  His  perfect  grace, 

Dowering  each  blossom  born  of  sun  and  snow  : 

His  tints,  not  thine  !     Thou  art  God's  copyist, 
O  gifted  Helga  !     His  thy  golden  height, 
Thy  purple  depth,  thy  rosy  sunset  light, 

Thy  blue  snow-shadows,  and  thy  weird  white  mist. 

Reveal  His  works  to  many  a  distant  land  ! 

Paint  for  His  praise,  oh  paint  for  love  of  Him  ! 

He  is  thy  Master,  let  Him  hold  thy  hand, 
So  thy  pure  heart  no  cloud  of  self  shall  dim. 

At  His  dear  feet  lay  down  thy  laurel-store, 

Which  crimson  proof  of  thy  redemption  bore. 

September  igfA,  1876. 

A  letter  has  been  sent  to  me,  written  about  this  time, 
which  may  interest  some. 

PENSION  SCHONFELS. 
MY  VERY  DEAR  MARGARET  : 

I  can't  tell  you  how  your  letter  touched  me.  I  never 
thought  He  would  let  me  give  you  a  lift,  who  were 
already  so  bright  and  devoted.  I  tried  to  help  other 
folks  at  Champery,  but  I  did  not  try  with  you,  only  just 
said  what  came  uppermost.  Oh  I  am  so  glad  you  see 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  283 

the  "only  for  Jesus  "  in  its  special  power.  Having  seen 
it,  one  wants  to  live  it  out,  simply  and  entirely,  and  we 
can  only  go  on  trusting  the  Lord  Jesus  hour  by  hour  to 
show  us  how.  I  wonder  what  He  is  going  to  show  us 
next,  dear  M. !  for  He  has  so  many  things  to  say  to  us, 
as  we  can  bear  them.  We  have  been  guided  to  a  won- 
derfully quiet  pension,  off  the  usual  beat.  Seven  Ger- 
mans here,  only  one  of  whom  can  speak  any  English. 
In  answer  to  your  query  :  well,  I'll  see  about  it ;  and 
if  I  can  get  a  chance  of  being  decently  photographed, 
I  will  send  you  a  copy ;  but  I  am  sure  you  won't  like 
it,  because  the  prevailing  tone  of  my  results  under  photo- 
graphic torture  is,  "  resignation  under  afflictive  dispen- 
sations ! "  which  a  cheerful  friend  suggested  as  the 
most  suitable  inscription  on  my  photos,  of  which  she 
declined  to  accept  one  !  Query  No.  3  :  "  This  is  no<t 
your  rest  "  really  does  seem  to.  be  written  on  every  at- 
tempt I  make  to  find  a  quiet  perch  (as  for  a  nest,  I 
don't  dream  of  that).  If  one  set  of  fatigues  is  done 
with,  another  arises,  personal  or  postal ;  but  I  really 
stand  as  good  a  chance  here  as  anywhere,  I  think,  so 
that  will  be  a  relief  to  your  mind.  And  it  has  been 
enforced  the  last  two  days,  because  I  left  Champery 
with  a  sharp  sore  throat,  which  developed  into  that  sort 
of  cold  that  has  made  me  totally  stupefied  yesterday  and 
to-day,  and  I  have  been  in  bed  a  good  many  extra 
hours.  It  was  such  a  pleasure  to  meet  you  and  dear 

Edith  at  C ;  it  is  such  a  pleasure  to  recollect  it, 

and  will  be  ditto  if  we  can  some  fine  day  come  over 
and  see  you  again.  I  think  Maria  is  more  likely  to  be 
free  to  do  so  than  I.  I  am  not  quite  so  freely  situated 
as  she  is,  and  have  far  more  arrears  to  make  up  too,  of 


234  SWISS  LETTERS. 

long  promised  visits,  as  my  long  invalidism  has  thrown 
me  far  behindhand  in  that  respect ;  and  being  seldom 
strong  enough  for  any  winter  travelling  limits  my  time 
for  getting  through  my  visits. 

Yours  lovingly, 

F.  R.  H. 

When  she  was  better  we  went  to  the  village  of  Eizen- 
flou,  hoping  for  a  fine  sunrise  on  the  Jungfrau.  A  fever- 
ish cold  detained  me  there.  Frances  went  to  the  village 
schoolmaster  and  secured  the  use  of  his  schoolroom  for 
a  service  the  next  evening,  as  her  spirit  was  stirred  up 
by  finding  no  pastor  ever  came  near  these  villages,  and 
they  were  five  miles  from  church.  The  evening  was 
wet,  and  I  wanted  Frances  not  to  go ;  but  she  said,  "  I 
may  never  come  here  again  ;  and  no  man  cares  for  these 
scattered  sheep."  The.  room  was  quite  full.  Frances 
addressed  them  in  German  from  i  John  i.  7,  and  also 
led  the  hymns  from  their  chorale  book.  Our  hostess' 
report  was  :  "  Never,  no  never,  had  any  one  told  them 
what  the  dear  young  lady  did  ;  it  was  wonderful !  They 
never  could  forget  her  words  ;  and  surely  she  must  be  a 
born  German  !  " 

From  Schonfels  we  went  to  the  Pension  Wengen, 
above  Lauterbrunnen,  for  several  weeks. 

October  i. — Unclouded  sunshine.  The  Jungfrau  and 
Silberhorn  were  radiant.  Frances  remarked,  "  It  will 
be  one  of  th£  new  delights  of  heaven  to  be  able  to  ex- 
press all  one's  thoughts."  The  next  day  we  took  horses 
to  the  Scheideck  Hotel.  After  resting,  we  rode  up  the 
Lauberhorn,  with  Hans  Lauener  for  our  guide.  He 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  285 

seemed  such  a  nice  fellow,  and  sang  some  French  hymns 
with  Frances,  on  the  top  of  the  mountain. 

I  had  the  audacity  to  sketch  the  Silberhorn  for  Mary 
Fay.  In  the  evening  Frances  called  me  to  watch  the 
singular  effect  of  the  moon  rising  behind  sharp  jutting 
rocks  ;  the  silver  rays  of  an  invisible  but  coming  pres- 
ence were  most  striking. 

Another  day  we  went  to  the  Mettlen  Alp,  which  Fran- 
ces thinks  the  finest  view  in  Switzerland,  through  pine 
woods,  and  then  I  stood  with  her  on  the  silver  steps  of 
the  Jungfrau's  throne.  What  then?  Avalanches  and 
our  silent  Alleluias !  Here  it  may  be  of  interest  to 
quote  copy  of  the  entry  in  the  visitors'  book,  at  Pension 
Wen  gen : 

Summer  returned  ;  cloudless  sky.  Thermometer  from  90°  to 
100°  during  our  stay.  Obliging  attentions,  honest  charges,  and 
tried  truthfulness.  The  Mettlen  Alp  stands  out  in  picturesque 
beauty.  "All  thy  works  praise  Thee."  Avalanche  Alleluias 
will  long  echo  in  English  homes. 

MARIA  V.  G.  HAVERGAL. 
FRANCES  RIDLEY  HAVERGAL. 
Sept.  zyd  till  Oct.  ifttA,  1876. 

This  was  Frances'  last  excursion  ;  her  health  entirely 
failed. 

October  8. — Frances  in  acute  pain  all  day,  and  could 
not  get  up  at  all.  She  wrote  the  hymn,  "  I  take  this 
pain,  Lord  Jesus."  They  brought  lukewarm  water  for 
fomentations,  so  I  dived  into  the  kitchen  and  secured  a 
saucepan,  gathered  pine  cones  and  wood,  and  got  leave 
to  use  the  salon  stove  night  and  day. 


286  SWISS  LETTERS. 

October  9  and  10. — Frances  moaning  all  day,  but  so 
wonderfully  patient,  even  in  sleepless  nights.  I  could 
not  say  "  Thy  will  be  done,"  till  she  spoke  so  sweetly  of 
texts  that  hush  and  gladden  her.  She  verily  exults  in 
that  declaration,  "  I  love,  I  love  my  Master !  "  (Exod. 
xxi.  5),  connecting  it  with  Rev.  xxii.  6,  "  shall  serve  Him 
for  ever." 

October  12. — Tried  camomile  fomentations,  at  mid- 
night, and  darling  Frances  so  grateful  ;  I  never  nursed 
any  one  so  uncomplaining.  Reading  to  her,  "  Let  Thy 
judgments  help  me,"  I  asked  her  what  it  meant.  She 
said,  "  I  think  God's  judgments  prove  our  faith,  forcing 
us  to  trust  more,  to  lean  more.  '  Help,'  because  He 
comes  so  very  close,  helps  us  when  no  one  else  can." 

Madame  Lauener,  the  mother  of  our  host,  often  came 
up  to  Frances'  room.  She  is  intensely  fond  of  Frances, 
and  repeats  Scripture  in  German,  and  prays  most  sooth- 
ingly by  her. 

October  13. — Mrs.  Simpson  (English  Pension)  came 
all  the  way  from  Interlachen,  bringing  remedies,  fruit 
and  jelly  for  Frances  ;  so  extremely  kind,  as  we  are 
comparative  strangers. 

Frances  sent  for  me  to  hear  Madame  Lauener  repeat 
from  memory  the  seventh  chapter  of  the  Revelation. 
Such  a  picture!  through  the  window  the  glisten  of  the 
snowy  Silberhorn,*  on  the  pillow  dear  Frances  and  her 
golden  curls  ;  by  her  side  the  aged  woman,  who  with 
beaming  eye  and  waving  hand  emphasized  those  won- 
derful words  ;  truly  it  brought  a  glimpse  of 


*  See  Frontispiece. 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  287 

"  When  robed  in  white  before  Thee, 

Without  one  stain  or  tear, 
Shall  all  Thy  saints  adore  Thee, 
'Midst  wonder,  love,  and  fear." 

(Rev.  W.  H.  H.~) 

Sunday,  October  15. — Frances  was  decidedly  better, 
and  able  to  take  a  few  steps  in  the  sunshine.  Her  com- 
ment on  "  For  His  mercy  endureth  for  ever,"  was,  "  that 
is,  every  day."  It  seemed  uncertain  if  we  could  leave 
next  day,  but  it  is  impossible  to  fidget  about  anything 
when  with  Frances.  She  playfully  said,  "  Now,  Marie, 
can't  you  leave  me  entirely  to  our  Father  !  "  Another 
time  I  was  anxious,  and  she  put  her  hand  on  mine : 
"  Marie  dear,  just  trust !  Jesus  is  with  us,  all  must  come 
right." 

October  16. — Frances  better,  and  able  to  leave  in  a 
chaise  a  porteur  to  Lauterbrunnen,  from  whence  she 
enjoyed  the  drive  to  Interlachen.  From  the  lake  of 
Thun  the  snowy  mountains  of  the  Bernese  Oberland 
brightened  into  sunset  glory,  and  we  saw  them  no  more.* 

October  18. — Left  Basle  through  Alsace  ;  the  Vosges 
mountains  were  dimly  outlined,  and  then  we  went 
through  a  pancake  country  with  straight  roads  and 
fields,  and  straight  poplars,  to  Strasbourg. 

October  19. — Frances  was  too  tired  to  go  out,  so  I 
raced  round  Strasbourg.  I  was  extremely  interested  in 
the  flower  market,  and  had  sundry  talks  with  the 
women.  I  took  a  diligence  to  get  a  sight  of  the  Rhine, 
and,  walking  back  by  a  short  cut,  got  into  the  fortifica- 


288  S  WISS  LE  TTERS. 

tions.  The  captain  was  most  polite,  and  allowed  me  to 
speak  to  a  few  soldiers,  giving  them  a  rapid  outline  of 
what  the  Captain  of  our  salvation  did,  and  does. 

The  cathedral  is  magnificent,  but  it  is  so  intensely 
grievous  to  see  the  shrines.  One  lady  kept  lighting  lit- 
tle tapers  at  the  Virgin's  shrine,  and  another  young  girl 
seemed  quite  faint  with  kneeling  ;  she  came  and  sat  by 
me,  and  I  had  an  interesting  talk  with  her. 

We  then  left  for  Brussels,  and  arrived  in  England 
October  2oth.  The  2ist  from  London  to  Winterdyne 
via  Oxford.  Just  after  leaving  Oxford  Frances  startled 
me  with  :  "  Marie  !  I  see  it  all  ;  I  can  write  a  little  book, 
'My  King!'" 

That  herald  light  was  in  her  eye,  which  ever  betokens 
some  direct  communication  from  her  King.  And  the 
following  letter  to  M.  A.  C.  shows  how  prayerfully  she 
afterwards  wrote  it,  trusting  for  every  word  to  be  given 
her. 

November  i,  1876.     OAKHAMPTON. 

I  REALLY  cannot  let  this  be  "  gratis,"  though  the  next 
shall  be.  I  am  so  delighted  and  thankful  to  hear  that 
you  really  are  going  to  give  the  whole  winter  to  God's 
work,  and  that  Miss  de  K.  has  joined  you,  and  that  you 
will  be  strengthening  the  hands  of  dear  Miss  Leigh,  in 
Paris.  Altogether,  your  letter  has  made  me  very  happy 
and  very  grateful. 

I  am  better  now,  but  was  far  worse  after  you  left  us 
at  Schonfels.  Two  attacks  in  succession,  the  second 
causing  nearly  a  week  of  terribly  prostrating  pain.  This 
day  three  weeks  I  could  not  even  stand  alone !  So  the 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  289 

only  thing  seemed  to  be  to  seize  the  very  first  day  of 
being  anyhow  able  to  begin  the  journey  from  Pension 
Wengen,  and  get  at  least  a  stage  or  two  nearer  home, 
which  we  did  ;  and  though  we  had  to  take  a  week  about 
it,  and  I  was  very  ill  on  the  way,  we  were  brought  safely 
to  England.  I  am  now  at  my  eldest  sister's,  getting  up  my 
strength  delightfully,  and  able  for  walks  in  the  garden. 
Maria  is  quite  renovated,  and  sleeps  and  eats  properly, 
in  spite  of  the  really  heavy  strain  upon  her  to  have  had 
to  nurse  me  night  and  day  while  really  very  ill.  Maria 
is  not  going  to  take  to  herself  another  wife  at  all !  (since 
E.  Clay's  departure  to  India),  so,  after  all,  you  won't 
have  the  pain  of  being  superseded.  She  is  going  to  live 
at  Winterdyne  for  some  time,  and  this  is  an  immense 
satisfaction  to  us  all. 

Do  you  ever  have  time  to  pray  for  other  people's 
work,  now  that  you  have  so  much  before  you  ?  Because, 
if  so,  will  you  ask  that  He  would  give  me  special  help 
in  a  little  book  which  I  want  to  write,  as  He  may  give 
me  strength.  The  title  will  be  simply  "  My  King," 
and  it  will  be  little  daily  thoughts  for  a  month,  (uniform 
with  the  "Bells"  and  "Pillows,"  only  for  grown-up 
folk,)  on  thirty-one  texts,  all  from  the  Old  Testament, 
about  our  King.  It  is  such  a  delicious  subject,  and  I 
have  so  enjoyed  the  mere  looking  out  of  the  texts  about 
it,  while  not  yet  strong  enough  for"  serious  writing  ;  but 
I  am  not  sufficient  for  these  things,  and  never  felt  more 
deeply  my  own  insufficiency.  Only  the  idea  of  the  book 
came  so  very  forcibly  to  my  mind  that  I  could  not  but 
think  He  had  sent  it  me ;  and  so  I  have  done  what  I 
never  did  before,  shelved  the  little  work  I  already  had 
on  hand,  to  do  this  first.  I  will  send  you  one  of  the 

19 


SWISS  LETTERS. 


texts,  because  possibly  you  might  not  have  thought  of  it, 
and  it  seems  so  nice  for  use.  2  Sam.  xix.  20  :  the  know- 
ledge that  Shimei  had  sinned  being  the  very  reason,  not 
for  keeping  away,  but  for  coming  the  first  of  all  to  meet 
the  king.  I  took  it  as  the  text  for  a  little  talk  with  the 
servants  here,  and  never  found  a  more  telling  one.  The 
2d  Book  of  Samuel  is  full  of  exquisite  typical  texts. 
The  headings  of  the  little  daily  portions  will  be  such  as 
"  The  Friendship  of  the  King,"  "  Decision  for  the  King," 
"The  Business  of  the  King,"  "The  Banquet  of  the 
King,"  "  Speaking  to  the  King." 

It  is  so  utterly  bumptious  of  me  to  think  of  writing 
for  grown-ups  at  all,  much  more  on  such  a  theme,  that  I 
feel  more  entirely  shut  up  to  asking  and  trusting  for 
every  word  of  it,  than  I  ever  did  before. 

Please  give  my  love  to  dear  Miss  Leigh.  I  owe  her 
ever  such  a  debt  of  gratitude  for  her  kindness,  and 
most  helpful  influence,  with  one  of  my  dear  nieces. 

Good-bye,  dearest  Margaret ;  Paris  is  not  "  among 
plants  and  hedges,"  but  may  you  there  dwell  with  the 
King,  for  His  work.  Love  to  dear  Edith  when  you 
write. 

Yours  ever, 

F.  E,  H. 


Two  years  passed  away,  and  I  again  visited  the  Pen- 
sion Wengen,  in  1878,  with  Mrs.  Usborne  and  Miss 
Cowan.  Knowing  how  much  my  sister  F.  R.  H.  was 
loved  there,  I  took  care,  when  writing  for  rooms,  to  say 
she  was  not  coming,  lest  they  should  be  disappointed. 
But  they  did  not  notice  it,  and  so  the  grandmother 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  291 

eagerly  expected  her  beloved  Fraulein  Fannie.  When 
I  arrived,  there  she  stood,  smiling  a  welcome,  but 
pointed  up,  saying,  "O  mein  Hans!"  Then  she  went 
to  meet  the  other  horses,  searching  for  F.,  till  seeing  she 
was  not  come,  her  wail  was  quite  touching  :  "  O  my  be- 
loved, my  Fraulein  Fannie,  where  are  you  ?  why  are 
you  not  come  to  comfort  me  ? "  Her  countenance  was 
still  beautiful,  but  there  was  now  a  far-off  look  in  her 
eyes,  sorrow  for  some  one  gone.  And  so  it  was  ;  her  son 
Hans,  our  bright  young  guide  to  the  Mettlen  Alp  and 
the  Lauberhorn,  had  met  with  an  accident  and  died. 
His  mother  and  brother  gave  me  the  following  particu- 
lars. 

All  the  winter  Hans  had  been  most  active  in  reliev- 
ing the  peasants  and  going  to  their  scattered  chalets  with 
soup  and  food,  often  through  deep  snow.  There  is  a 
society  here  for  that  purpose,  and  Hans  was  its  most 
useful  member. 

Some  of  the  mountain  land  and  pine  woods,  adjoin- 
ing the  Pension  Wengen,  belonged  to  him  and  fiis 
brother  Ulrich.  These  pines  are  thinned,  cut  down, 
and  taken  into  the  valley  beneath,  and  there  sawn  into 
planks.  After  the  branches  are  cut  off,  the  pines  are 
brought  to  the  glissade,  which  is  formed  by  the  freezing 
of  some  mountain  stream,  over  which  lies  a  deep  bed  of 
frozen  snow.  On  the  morning  of 'March  5th,  1878, 
Hans,  his  brother  Ulrich,  and  twenty  men  were  thus  at 
work.  It  requires  great  skill  to  steer  the  pine  and  keep 
it  steadily  in  its  torrent  slide.  Hans  was  ever  the  first,  en- 
joying the  dash  of  power  requisite  to  guide  the  giant  pine 
down  that  icy  path.  But  in  a  moment  the  pine  swayed 
out  of  its  course,  Hans  was  struck  down,  the  whole 


2g2  SWISS  LETTERS. 

weight  of  the  pine  crushing  his  side  and  leg.  A  mattress 
and  pillows  were  brought,  his  brother  wisely  taking  him 
at  once  to  Lauterbrunnen,  where  he  would  be  nearer  a 
doctor  than  at  home.  Skilfully  was  he  carried  to  the 
Hotel  Staubbach,  and  a  telegram  soon  brought  doctors 
from  Interlachen.  But  nothing  could  be  done,  the  loss 
of  blood  was  too  great  to  allow  of  amputation.  Hans 
was  calm  and  patient,  though  in  agony.  He  told  them 
that  "  he  had  his  passport  all  ready,  that  he  saw  the 
path  of  life  before  him,  and  he  was  quite  sure  he  was  in 
it." 

He  lived  three  days,  during  which  the  pastor,  who 
was  rationalistic,  visited  Hans,  and  the  words  of  the 
dying  guide  spoke  of  a  better  hope.  Hans  told  him, 
that  no  works,  no  merit,  no  good  and  noble  life,  gave 
him  any  comfort  now,  but  it  was  the  sacrifice  of  Jesus 
on  the  cross,  and  the  precious  blood  there  shed  to  put 
away  sin,  that  was  his  "passport." 

"  It  is  believing  in  Jesus  Christ  brings  me  this  joy. 
Without  the  blood  that  atones  for'  sin,  I  could  not  stand 
accepted  before  the  throne." 

The  pastor  heard  and  believed ;  this  testimony 
brought  new  light  and  life  to  him,  and  a  crown  to  the 
dying  Hans.  (Since  then  his  sermons  are  quite  evan- 
gelistic). His  only  sorrow  was  to  leave  his  mother  and 
brother,  but  even  then  he  comforted  them  :  "  God  has 
prepared  a  place  also  for  you,  my  brother.  Mother,  my 
mother,  there  is  only  a  short  course  for  you  to  run." 
Hans  spoke  of  F.  R.  H.,  and  more  than  once  sang  the 
hymn  in  which  they  had  joined  on  the  heights  of  the 
Lauberhorn. 


MEMORANDA  OF  TOUR  IN  1876.  293 

"  Vers  le  del,  vers  le  ciel, 

J'entends,  Jesus,  Ton  appel, 
O  mon  coeur,  vers  toi  s'elance 
Dans  la  joyeuse  esperance 

De  se  voir,  Emmanuel  ! " 

And  then  with  the  ancient  passport  of  "the  blood," 
the  young  guide  passed  upward,  and  entered  in  "  through 
the  gates  into  the  city."  He  died  March  8th,  1878. 

It  is  now  October,  1881,  and  in  F.  R.  H.'s  study  there 
lies  her  motto  card,  "  My  own  text,"  identical  with  the 
dying  guide's  "passport,"  "The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ 
His  Son  cleans^  us  from  all  sin  "  (i  John  i.  7). 


XIV. 
THE  VOICE  OF  MANY  WATERS. 

FAR  away  I  heard  it, 

Stealing  through  the  pines, 

Like  a  whisper  saintly, 

Falling  dimly,  faintly, 

Through  the  terraced  vines. 

Freshening  breezes  bore  it 

Do"wn  the  mountain  slope  ; 
So  I  turned  and  listened, 
While  the  sunlight  glistened 
On  the  snowy  cope. 

Far  away  and  dreamy 

Was  the  voice  I  heard  ; 
Yet  it  pierced  and  found  me, 
Through  the  voices  round  me — 

Song  without  a  word. 

All  the  life  and  turmoil, 

All  the  busy  cheer, 
Melted  in  the  flowing 
Of  that  murmur,  growing, 

Claiming  all  my  ear. 
(294) 


THE  VOICE  OF  MANY  WATERS.  295 

What  the  mountain-message 

I  could  never  tell  ; 
Such  ^Eolian  fluting 
Hath  no  language  suiting 

What  we  write  and  spell. 

Rather  did  it  enter 

Where  no  words  can  win, 
Touching  and  unsealing 
Springs  of  hidden  feeling, 

Slumbering  deep  within. 

Voice  of  many  waters 

Only  heard  afar  ! 
Hushing,  luring  slowly, 
With  an  influence  holy, 

Like  the  orient  star. 


Follow  where  it  leadeth, 
Till  we  stand  below 
While  the  noble  thunder 
Wins  the  hush  of  wonder, 
Silent  in  its  glow. 

Light  and  sound  triumphant 

Fill  the  eye  and  ear  ; 
Every  pulse  is  beating 
Quick,  unconscious  greeting 
To  the  vision  near. 

Rainbow  flames  are  wreathing 

In  the  dazzling  foam, 
Fancy  far  transcending, 
Power  and  beauty  blending 
In  their  radiant  home. 


296  61  WISS  LE  T  TERS. 

All  the  dreamy  longing 
Passes  out  of  sight, 
In  a  swift  surrender 
To  the  joyous  splendour 
Of  this  song  of  might. 

Self  is  lost  and  hidden 
As  it  peals  along  ; 
Fevered  introspection, 
Paler-browed  reflection 
Vanish  in  the  song. 

For  the  spirit,  lifted 

From  the  dulling  mists, 
Takes  a  stronger  moulding, 
As  the  sound,  unfolding, 
Bears  it  where  it  lists. 

Voice  of  many  waters  ! 

Must  we  turn  away 
From  the  crystal  chorus 
Now  resounding  o'er  us, 

Through  the  flashing  spray  ? 


Far  away  we  hear  it, 

Floating  from  the  sky 

Mystic  echo,  falling 

Through  the  stars,  and  calling 
From  the  thrones  on  high. 

There  are  voices  round  us, 
Busy,  quick,  and  loud  ; 
All  day  long  we  hear  them, 
We  are  still  so  near  them, 
Still  among  the  crowd. 


THE   VOICE  OF  AT  ANY  WATERS.  297 

Yet  athwart  the  clamour 

Falls  it,  faint  and  sweet, 
Like  the  softest  harp-tone, 
Passing  every  sharp  tone 

Down  the  noisy  street. 

To  the  soul-recesses 

Cleaving  then  its  way, 
Waking  hidden  yearning, 
Unwilled  impulse  turning 

To  the  far  away. 

Far  away  and  viewless, 

Yet  not  all  unknown  ; 
In  the  murmur  tracing 
Soft  notes  interlacing 

With  familiar  tone. 

So  we  start  and  listen  ! 

While  the  murmur  low 
Falleth  ever  clearer, 
Swelleth  fuller,  nearer, 

In  melodious  flow. 

Voice  of  many  waters* 

From  the  height  above, 
Hushing,  luring  slowly, 
With  its  influence  holy, 

With  its  song  of  love  ! 


Following  where  it  leadeth, 
Pilgrim  feet  shall  stand 
Where  the  holy  millions 
Throng  the  fair  pavilions 
In  the  Glorious  land. 


298  SWISS  LETTERS. 

Where  the  sevenfold  "  Worthy  ! ' 

Hails  the  King  of  kings, 
Blent  with  golden  clashing 
Of  the  crowns,  and  flashing 
Of  cherubic  wings  ; 

Rolls  the  Amen  Chorus, 
Old,  yet  ever  new  ; 
Seal  of  blest  allegiance, 
Pledge  of  bright  obedience, 
Seal  that  God  is  true. 

Through  the  solemn  glory 

Alleluias  rise, 
Mightiest  exultation, 
Holiest  adoration, 

Infinite  surprise. 

There  immortal  powers 

Meet  immortal  song ; 
Heavenly  image  bearing, 
Angel-essence  sharing, 
Excellent  and  strong. 

• 
Strong  to  bear  the  glory 

And  the  veil-less  sight, 
Strong  to  swell  the  thunders 
And  to  know  the  wonders 

Of  the  home  of  light. 

Voice  of  many  waters  ! 

Everlasting  laud  ! 
Hark  !  it  rushes  nearer, 
Every  moment  clearer, 

From  the  throne  of  God  f 


THE  WORKS  OF  MISS  HA  VERBAL. 


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